


Mind Flip

by TexasBean



Category: Bleach, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Harry has a secret ally, Harry isn't what anyone expects, I can't believe I didn't, I've just realized what this is, Isekai, Slytherin will have no idea what hit it, So not canon compliant, The Ministry of Magic has some splainin' to do, Ulquiorra finds himself a sort of family, Ulquiorra is annoyed, Voldemort will know true despair, this is an isekai, unintentional crack is unintentional
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 00:59:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 45,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16734015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TexasBean/pseuds/TexasBean
Summary: After his fight with Ichigo in Hueco Mundo, Ulquiorra is dissolving. Meanwhile, a five-year-old Harry is being punished, and has a bout of accidental magic. The Espada wakes up in a strange room, and he learns that he now resides in the mind of Harry Potter. Their odd coexistence begins, and no-one is prepared for Harry to have a hidden ally. Voldemort will know true despair.





	1. In Which a Simple Wish is Rather Complicated

**Author's Note:**

> A wish is a complicated thing, and not to be taken lightly; especially when emotions and magic are involved.

Magic in and of itself, is such an odd, curious thing. It has rules, yet doesn't seem to follow any rules in particular. It can be a terrifying force, yet at the same time, a useful tool for everyday use.

Wishes fall under the odd and curious category as well. They can be powerful in their own right; blowing out candles, wishing on stars, and throwing money down certain wells – which are also quite mysterious – perhaps even having some sort of wishing catalyst. Add magic and powerful emotions to those wishes, and a person could potentially find themselves displaced. But here, it is where people don't realize that wishes are fickle things, much to their displeasure and misfortune. For you see, people will get their wish granted, yet it doesn't come about in the way they suspect it should.

Their wishes get granted either in a very roundabout way, or are somehow slightly corrupted. There are many stories that involve the dangers of a corrupted wish. The most infamous of them is the tale of a girl who had a rather horrible fight with her lover. He was simply leaving the premises, as one would do to clear their mind – it wasn't as if he was leaving  _her._ But alas, as he was leaving, she was worried he  _would_  leave her. Instead of being willing to simply talk and listen, and unwilling to risk having her heart broken if that ever came about, the girl had access to a wishing catalyst.

So in her selfishness, anger and sadness, she wished that her boyfriend would never leave her. And he never did; he became a tree that forever rooted itself in her garden. She was also unable to find love with anyone else, because technically the love of her life had never left her.

So their emotions when they make their wish must be taken into account. Are they being selfish, selfless, or – if the person is thinking of themselves – are they wishing they could have another chance to do and become something more? A desire that is not selfish, because it is something all truly sentient beings should strive for.

A desire to change; and be better for it.

To say all of that, is how this tale has led here.

_Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of Number Four Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much._

Here, there is a young boy named Harry Potter – he has a great destiny waiting for him, yet, that does not seem to be the case, as far as he can see. He is currently five years and some odd hours old, and his Aunt Petunia has locked him away in his cupboard under the stairs for doing something he couldn't have helped.

Young Harry had caused his rather terrible cousin Dudley's hair to turn a frightful shade of pink. Amidst his Aunt and cousin's caterwauling that consists of "Oh, my poor Dudders" and "What will the neighbors think?!"

Harry is upset, because he was simply defending himself against Dudley's physical and verbal bullying. As he laid back on his cot, Harry is lost in his turbulent emotions. So he whispers to the darkness, so quietly that not even the spiders in his cupboard can hear him.

"I wish I could go somewhere far away from here…" but where would he go? Slowly, logic began to take over. "I don't know if anyone is listening… but I wish I could have a friend." Harry wiped a stray tear from his eye. "I don't like being alone. Just one would be enough. I wouldn't mind living here if I had just  _one_  friend…"

Unintentionally, a small, thin string of his magic began to reach out, searching.

0o0o0

At that same moment, in a world that was almost nothing except shifting sands that went on as far as the eye can see, three people stood in amid the rubble of a broken building where a fight had just taken place.

Ulquiorra Cifer was fading after having been defeated by Ichigo.

He slowly reached out towards the girl named Orihime. She looked at him with an expression he couldn't really identify. Perhaps it was pity. He was never very good at identifying that sort of thing anyway; frankly because there had never been a need of it. But there was the desire to learn. Orihime was a curious thing; she spoke of Humanity and love with such conviction, he found himself wanting those things as well. He wanted to learn more.

_What does it mean to be Human?_

For such a simple question, it does not have one, complete answer.

Orihime was an emotional girl who wore her heart on her sleeve to an absolute fault – that was how she had ended up in Hueco Mundo in the first place. But through her conversations with Ulquiorra, she had found that while he was unemotional, he wasn't as detached as she first thought. It was as he was fading before her eyes that she saw it: the flicker of emotion in his otherwise stoic features.

_He didn't want to die, even though it seemed before it would not have made a difference to him._

So Orihime wished that Ulquiorra could have that chance. To learn how to be Human; to love and care for someone and be loved and cared for in return. Such a selfless wish that was filled with strong desire for someone else and regret for so many things.

It was thanks to these deciding factors that so many things happened.

And then Ulquiorra faded into nothing but ash before their eyes.

0o0o0

Ulquiorra didn't know where he was when he woke up. He was in a room that looked to be 8x8 with a high ceiling, and it appeared to be manmade, seeing how the cool stones were laid out and smooth. There was no light except for the soft blue glow from a large screen of some sort that took up the entirety of the wall in front him. It did not show much; it was dark and blurry.

Ulquiorra's first thought was that he was a prisoner somewhere, but that didn't make sense. He remembered  _fading_. There was no mirror, so Ulquiorra checked over what he could see and feel about himself. He wasn't injured, and he still had his sword.

He just stood there, for however long, not knowing what to do. There wasn't any door that he could see, and his Cero didn't seem to be working. Was he a prisoner in Seireitei? But if that were the case, why would they have let him keep his sword? Perhaps this was a test? If so, then for who?

Ulquiorra's musing was interrupted by a sudden deep shout of, "Boy! Get up!" accompanied by banging.

Except the banging wasn't on the walls of his prison. The screen in front of him jolted, and was now a blurry mess of dull colors. Something pink and hand-shaped reached out to grab something and then brought it towards the screen. The screen shifted into focus within seconds, and Ulquiorra could see a room – it was small and filled with various objects like a small dresser and books. A door to the room opened, and the largest man Ulquiorra had ever seen loomed there.

Now when Ulquiorra thought large, he was comparing the man to an animal that was called a walrus.

"None of your freakishness today, eh, boy?" the man questioned, looking into the screen.

"No..." a child's voice answered.

"Good, good. Now hurry up and get in the kitchen, Petunia needs help."

The screen shook as if it were nodding, then slowly rose up and went out of the small room. A boy who was like a tiny clone – and the term 'tiny' was used loosely here – of the large man purposefully shoved by the one with the screen, causing them to stumble slightly. The large man said and did nothing.

How irritating.

The owner of the screen, as Ulquiorra didn't know what else it would be called – went into the bathroom. Ulquiorra quickly looked away in disgust, having no desire to see or hear anything pertaining to this room.

After the toilet was flushed, the owner was washing their hands and face. The owner put their glasses back on and looked into the mirror. Ulquiorra stared at the boy in the mirror who had green eyes and wild, almost black hair. Except one of his eyes was covered in a bruise. The boy frowned at his reflection before muttering, "Stupid Aunt Petunia, and stupid Dudley…I wish someone would beat 'precious little Dudders' up for once."

Ulquiorra couldn't help it when he said dryly to himself,  _/"'Little' isn't a word I would use."/_

The boy's eyes widened and he fell backwards onto the floor, knocking a few bottles down as well. While nothing broke, the screen was wildly shifting back and forth as the boy's eyes flitted around the room. "H-hello?"

Wait…could this boy  _hear_  him?

 _/"Can you_ hear _me?"/_

"Yeah…Where are you? How are you talking to me?"

There was a banging on the door at that moment. "You better not be doing any of that bloody freakishness! Hurry up and get out here!"

The boy muttered a reply about having tripped and quickly picked everything up and set it back in its proper place.

The boy went out to the kitchen to help prepare the other Humans' breakfast. The woman looked very much like a humanoid horse, and that left Ulquiorra wondering how the two adults had even mated in the first place.

While Ulquiorra was demanding answers, he wasn't willing to distract the boy while he was busy with these Humans' needs. It wasn't until they were sitting down for breakfast that Ulquiorra spoke again.

Of course, his voice caused the boy to suddenly flinch, which resulted in the other occupants at the table to glare at him.

 _/"Stop flinching when I speak."/_  Ulquiorra ordered, not having the patience for such silliness.  _"My name is Ulquiorra Cifer, Fourth Espada…well, I should say_ former _forth Espada. Who are you and where are we?"/_

Well, the boy couldn't answer that easily. It wasn't until well after breakfast was over and the dishes cleaned and put away that Harry went to his cupboard and shut the door. He then whispered, "I'm Harry. Harry Potter."

_/ "Very well. You will tell me everything there is to know about this World, boy."/_

Harry wasn't sure who or what Ulquiorra was, but it certainly wasn't as lonely anymore. The small boy smiled.


	2. In Which Harry Hunting Goes Out of Season

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Ulquiorra discover an unusual ability, and Dudley and his friends unfortunately meet someone very unexpected. Petunia is stressed, and Vernon is flummoxed. Oh, dear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should say that instead of completely retelling the HP plot, this will be a series of interconnected tales not necessarily told in the right order showing how Ulquiorra's presence affects the series as a whole. Heck, maybe I'll even take prompts for the chapters/years.

Dudley Dursley was a boy who was used to getting away with a lot. He could do no wrong, got what he wanted whenever he wanted it, no matter what anyone else said. He could hit, bite, cry, and blame anyone and everyone, and always, the adults in his life bent over backwards to his every whim.

One of his favorite activities by far, was to chase his cousin, Harry. Or 'Freak' as his parents called him. Harry was odd, in more ways than one. There was that time that the clock on the wall in the hallway kept going off, annoying his parents to no end. His mother was reluctant to throw it away, as it had belonged to her great-grandfather, but his dad had insisted that it was now infected by Harry's 'freakishness'. Then, there was the time a few weeks ago, that Harry had somehow turned his cousin's hair pink for a few hours.

Nowadays, Harry often stared at nothing, and at times, whispered to himself in one-sided conversations. Lately, Harry wouldn't even jump anymore when Dudley's dad would yell – in fact, Harry would just stare at him. That annoyed his dad, very much.

Harry was weirder than Harry had ever been.

One day, Dudley decided that a game of 'Harry Hunting' was well overdue. It was a simple game, really. Dudley and his friends would chase Harry; and if they caught him, they would hit and kick him.

So, that evening, Dudley and his friends set out. It wasn't long until they spotted Harry a few houses down from Privet Drive, who was muttering to himself.

"Oi, lads!" Dudley announced their presence, "How about a game of Harry Hunting!"

Harry jolted, and his eyes widened. The bespectacled boy took off running. Dudley and his friends whooped and hollered, yelling out all the nasty things that they were going to do to Harry once they caught him. Shoving dirt in his face was always fun.

The chase was on for several minutes, and Harry turned a corner down one of the quieter streets. Dudley knew that Harry often tried to use this route to escape them. Dudley was thinking of a plan to cut Harry off in one of the neighboring gardens, when he and his friends turned the corner.

All three of them skidded to a stop and nearly toppled over each other, gaping at the sight of… some stranger, standing before them. He was creepy-looking. Far too pale, with weird tattoos on his face, with black hair and half of a white helmet with a horn. His outfit was white and black, and a sword was at his hip. Briefly, Dudley wondered if that sword was real.

But alas, Dudley (nor did his friends) possess the sense of survival that anyone who found themselves standing before such a peculiar person would have. For Dudley, he was under the distinct and very incorrect assumption that he had nothing to worry about. After all, he was Dudley Dursley, and no-one ever did a thing to him that gave him reason to fear admonishment.

In fact, Dudley was now wondering where Harry could have gotten off to.

"What are you looking at?" one of Dudley's friends, Piers, sneered.

Dudley would have laughed, if the stranger hadn't suddenly reached out and snapped Piers' arm with just one hand.

Piers collapsed to the ground, screaming, as one would do.

Dudley's other friend, Malcolm, found himself with a broken arm as well.

Then, the stranger turned his attention onto Dudley – and  _that_  was when Dudley began to worry. The entire time, the stranger's expression hadn't shifted even once. The stranger reached out so fast, Dudley didn't even register that he had been lifted by the front of his shirt until the stranger addressed him –  _by name._

"Listen well, Dudley Dursley," the stranger's voice sent chills down Dudley's spine. "You and your little friends will leave Harry Potter  _alone_. Otherwise, a broken arm will be the least of your worries. I  _will_  show you true despair, and trust me when I say that your parents will  _never_  see your snotty faces again. They won't even find a corpse."

The stranger pulled Dudley close enough that his warm breath washed over him, and Dudley unwittingly shivered and whimpered.

"Know that the only reason I don't break anything of yours is simply because you are his pathetic, whiny, little cousin."

Dudley was dropped a few feet, where he landed harshly on the road.

"Now, I suggest you run… I  _do_ allow my prey to have a bit of a head start."

The three boys quickly turned on their heels and fled, fearing that if they looked behind them, they would see the frightening stranger chasing after them.

000

Dudley's mother fretted over him, due to his damaged clothing, scrapes and bruises. Malcom and Piers' parents were understandably irate, but the descriptions the two boys gave about their attacker matched no-one and nothing anyone had ever seen before. Obviously, people were worried that some hoodlum was attacking their defenseless children while wearing some elaborate costume.

The moment Petunia heard that, she stiffened, and cautiously peeked out her windows several times throughout the following weeks. It didn't help that she felt things were disappearing around the house. She blamed her nephew, understandably, but there was no way that he could have taken any of the items, for those things couldn't really fit into the boy's cupboard – pieces of furniture that were difficult to carry, and even food.

When Vernon searched Harry's cupboard, nothing incriminating was there; it was simply all the things they had provided him. Petunia thought that she was losing her mind.

Plus, her nephew had taken to just staring at her whenever she spoke – or even staring straight ahead, never blinking – or his eyes shifted over everyone and everything. He was being quieter. Not in the 'children should be seen and not heard' sort of way; but rather outlandishly quiet. Harry would move almost silently wherever he went.

Plus, Dudley had started going out of his way to avoid Harry completely. Dudley looked at Harry with fear – but when asked, Dudley could honestly say that Harry didn't do anything.

000

Now, going back… Harry was keeping to himself a few yards down, conversing with Ulquiorra. Because he was a five-year-old, Harry could get away with telling anyone who asked or stared that he was talking to his imaginary friend. He had learned to stop flinching with a voice that went off in his head about a week after Ulquiorra had appeared.

"Oi, lads!" Dudley announced their presence, "How about a game of Harry Hunting!"

Harry jolted and took off, with Ulquiorra asking,  _/ "What is going on?" /_

"Harry-Hunting!" Harry gasped out, quickly turning a corner and through a garden. "Dudley and-and his friends'll beat me up if they catch me!"

 _/ "You're in very poor shape." /_ Ulquiorra helpfully pointed out.

Harry cringed when he heard a particular threat that involved his being thrown into a neighbor's rock garden.

_/ "Why don't you kill them? It would be far easier." /_

Harry stumbled, but quickly righted himself. "I can't do that!"

_/ "Why not?" /_

"Be-cause killing pe-people like that is wrong!" Harry ignored the crick in his side.

Ulquiorra was tired of this nonsense. It was irritating.

Now, perhaps it had to do with Harry's desire to escape, and Ulquiorra's desire to make the boys stop, an odd sensation came over both Harry and Ulquiorra. It felt like they simply turned around 360 degrees, but suddenly, Harry found himself sitting inside a room with a screen, and Ulquiorra found himself standing on a street in little Whinging.

Ulquiorra stared at his surroundings, obviously surprised. "…We switched?"

 _/ "What…what happened?" /_ Harry nervously asked.

That was a question that would have to be pondered on later, because just then, Dudley and his friends turned the corner. All three of them stopped and stared at Ulquiorra. Then, Ulquiorra reached out, and Harry could see a pale hand and white clothes.

_/ "Don't kill them!" /_

But Harry didn't have anything to worry about (at least not really) because only Piers and Malcom got their arms broken, and Dudley was threatened. Alright, maybe Harry sort of smiled at that – seeing the fear in Dudley's eyes when he realized he couldn't bully anyone this time.

That was when Harry realized that Ulquiorra looked like…what  _did_  Ulquiorra look like? He had briefly described himself, but a five-year-old's imagination could only go so far.

After Dudley was dropped to the ground, and the three took off, Ulquiorra stared at his hand. How had he come outside, and how long did it last? A sensation came over him, as if he were being physically forced to turn around, and he was back inside the room.

Three minutes… he had been out for three minutes.

Harry stumbled when he was forced outside of himself? Was that how to describe it? He felt sick to his stomach, as if he had been spinning nonstop. He had to support himself by leaning on the fence, and he was exhausted.

"How did we  _do_  that?" Harry asked, completely flummoxed.

_/ "I don't know…we'll have to figure it out. I wonder if we can increase the time I come out. Plus, we'll have to do something about your endurance. It's pitiful." /_

Harry couldn't disagree. "Thanks, by the way…"

 _/ "It would be inconvenient if you were hurt." /_ was the practical reply.

0000

Trying to switch themselves seemed to be easier said than done. Merely thinking that Ulquiorra wanted to come out and Harry wanted to…go into the room…? Anyway, it was difficult.

Ulquiorra theorized that perhaps it had to do with a rush of adrenaline, or perhaps it was the threat of injury, but Harry had no desire to willfully endanger himself. Ulquiorra was slightly annoyed by this; because it was a theory that he felt should at least be tested, and the sound reasoning of a five-year-old wasn't exactly something he was proud to admit to having to agree with.

So that plan was out, until they either ran out of other options or they found another way.

Ulquiorra sat down on the floor of the room thoughtfully. What had triggered the switch?

_/ "Boy, what were your thoughts when we switched? What were they exactly?" /_

"Well…" Harry whispered, staring at his ceiling, "I wanted to get away… I wanted to be safe."

Ulquiorra sighed.  _/ "That means my theory stands where you have to endanger yourself." /_

"I'm  _not_  going to jump in front of a speeding car just to test this!" Harry's voice raised slightly, but not loud enough to stir his relatives.

_/ "Fine… we can try meditation then, since you're so reluctant to test this." /_

Harry disliked the disappointment in Ulquiorra's voice, and he muttered bitterly, "You don't have to sound so disappointed, you know. I thought it was incon-con…"  _/ "inconvenient," /_ "yes, that – for me to be hurt."

_/ "That was before we were trying to figure out how we switched." /_

There had to be another way, Harry was sure of it. He was too tired to discuss this further, so he settled down to sleep. As Harry slept, a sense of calm swept over the room, and Ulquiorra had to admit that it was rather nice.

Nonsensical images started to flash across the screen: a man whose face was blurry turned into a large stag, and soon, a dog, and a rat joined in. A smiling man who looked disheveled was there, laughing at the antics of the animals; and a woman with a shock of red hair smiled. The dream took a darker turn as there was a flash of green and a scream, before the dream went on to Harry flying over rooftops.

The boy's dreams were always outlandish.

0000

 _/ "Meditation." /_ Ulquiorra said a few days later.

Harry paused in doing the gardening. "What's that?"

Sighing at having to explain it, Ulquiorra answered,  _/ "Basically, you sit down comfortably, and clear your mind of everything except the thing you are trying to focus on. I suppose your cupboard at night or on days when you have a break you can do it." /_

It sounded safe enough, so Harry agreed.

 _/ "I'd be careful touching that one plant if I were you." /_ Ulquiorra said, just as Harry was reaching for a plant.  _/ "That's poison ivy. It'll make your skin blister." /_

Harry paused, thinking back to last year when he had touched one of the plants. "…Aunt Petunia said it was because I was naughty…"

_/ "Then she is an idiot… perhaps you should save that plant for something." /_

"Like what?"

_/ "You'll never know when something like that will come in useful." /_

Getting a rag from inside the house, and being thankful that his relatives were gone for the day, Harry hid the plant in his cupboard.

Hours later, Harry sat on his cot, snuggled with his blanket around him, trying to meditate just like Ulquiorra told him to. But he felt restless, and honestly kept feeling like he had to pee or itch something. Or, his mind kept drifting. He had little to no self-control.

Harry Potter was bored. Very, very bored.

Ulquiorra Cifer was irritated. Very, very irritated.

A few weeks later, Harry felt something – like a pull. Like there was something in the back of his mind. Ulquiorra felt it too – like something was pulling him forward.

Remembering that Ulquiorra had said something about desire, Harry thought  _'*I want to switch*'_

Meanwhile, Ulquiorra thought,  _'*I want to come out*'_

And the sensation over both of them forced Harry to spin around, while it also forced Ulquiorra forward.

Ulquiorra found himself sitting on the cot, his horn just barely avoided scraping the ceiling. Harry found himself sitting in the room, and he stood up, not realizing that his blanket fell from his shoulders onto the floor.

 _/ "Ulqui! We did it!" /_ Harry jubilantly whooped.

"Yes, congratulations to us." Ulquiorra replied so blandly, his attitude match Petunia's cream-colored drapes.

Harry frowned,  _/ "You could sound just a bit happier, you know…" /_

Before either of them knew it, three minutes were up. When Ulquiorra appeared in the room, he looked down when he kicked something.

_/ "…A blanket?" /_

"Ulqui, look, my blanket is gone!" Sounding more enthusiastic than he felt as he was exhausted, Harry marveled at the revelation.

_/ "That's because it's in here…" /_

That was when a plan formed. Harry needed to increase his endurance, since it seemed that Ulquiorra could only come out once a day, for three minutes. Not only that, but switching left Harry physically and mentally exhausted.

When they switched in the middle of the day, Harry collapsed, and could barely move, much to the annoyance of Petunia and Vernon, as they were worried he might be sick.

Endurance meant physical exercise, and that also meant eating more. Plus, this also gave them a chance to see what could be taken into the room.

They started small. Taking bits of food that wasn't perishable, and then taking food that  _was_ perishable to see if it would last while within the room. All they had to do was switch – Harry would bring the food with him into the room – Ulquiorra would bring it out with him when they went into Harry's cupboard, and then Harry would eat – even if he was exhausted. But it was getting easier to switch in and out.

Several weeks later, the eggs that Harry had brought in were still good.

Harry brought in books, several drinks, even money and some of his relatives' clothing. Harry tried to lift something that was far too heavy for him; one of the kitchen chairs, and switch. But, it didn't happen. When Ulquiorra lifted the chair and they switched, the Arancar brought the chair back with him.

_/ "It seems that as long as either of us are able to physically lift the desired item completely off of any surface, we can bring it into the room." /_

They ended up returning the kitchen chair, and further testing was clearly needed.

000

Vernon stared at the spot where his chair clearly used to be. It was gone, just gone… Logically, he knew that his freak of a nephew couldn't have taken it. There was no way the boy could have lifted it, plus, there were no drag marks.

"BOY!" Vernon screamed, and within minutes, Harry stood in the sitting room, looking up at him.

"Yes, sir?"

"Where is my seat?!"

"I don't know, sir."

"How can you not know?!" Vernon demanded, nearly turning purple. "You're the only one who could have done something like this!"

Harry didn't respond at first. "How could I have done that, sir?"

Vernon didn't have a response.  _How_  could the boy have done it? Well, Vernon may have had an answer, but it wasn't one he wanted to say out loud.

Instead of answering him, Vernon cuffed the boy across the head, and grabbed his arm and shoved him into his cupboard.

"Think about what you've done!" Vernon shouted, locking the door.

"But I didn't even  _do_  anything!" Harry's voice shot back.

Vernon grumbled under his breath about having to care for his freakish nephew.

When Vernon went upstairs to his room just minutes later, he found his beloved chair in the corner of his room. How in the world…?

What was so odd about it was the fact that the chair was not only heavy, but it would have been nearly impossible to maneuver up the stairs, around the obstacles in the hallway, and to even fit it through the doorway. How was he supposed to even get it out of here, and back to where it properly belonged?

Once again, Vernon grumbled under his breath about this inconvenience.

When he saw Harry the next day, Vernon shouted, "No food for three days!"

"Okay."

Vernon paused. That response came a little too easily. Normally, the boy would have defiantly glared and grumbled. But there was none of that here; it was simply agreement to the bestowed punishment.

When the entire platter of pork disappeared the next day, Harry was ruled out as a suspect when the platter appeared in Dudley's room days later.

"But I didn't take it!" Dudley insisted.

Food had been disappearing lately, and Dudley was the only one Vernon and Petunia could say was responsible.

That was when they decided to put the boy on a diet, much to his irritation. In response to Dudley's protests, all Vernon and Petunia could really do was say, "It's just for a few weeks, Dudders,"

Oh, how Petunia disliked making their poor son suffer so. Vernon patted Petunia's arm. "It's for the best, Pet."

000

Harry stood in the bathroom and stared in the mirror. He had always wondered what his friend looked like. Ulquiorra would always say things like, 'It doesn't matter, boy,' and the like. It was then Harry had gotten an idea.

"Ulqui! Trade places real quick!"

_/…/_

_/ "May I ask why?" /_

"I want to know what you look like…"Harry admitted.

_/ "Why do you insist on knowing my appearance, boy?" /_

"…I just want to know what the face of my friend looks like." Pouting, he added, "Dudley and his friends know what you look like!"

Would guilt tripping work? Harry hoped so.

Ulquiorra was silent for a few minutes before finally agreeing, if only to get Harry to leave him alone.  _/ "Fine." /_

Harry cheered.

Ulquiorra was brought out, and he looked at himself in the mirror. Harry studied Ulquiorra's appearance. He was tall and pale, with messy black hair that reminded him of his own, except it was longer, being passed his ears. His eyes were also green, and had a sad quality to them; emphasized by the teal markings running down his face. Harry also looked at the bone-white helmet on the left side of Ulquiorra's head and the hole in his chest, along with the '4' tattoo on the left side of his chest.

"Are you satisfied, boy?" Ulquiorra asked impassively.

Inside the room, Harry smiled wide.  _/ "You look really cool!" /_

"If you think that, then you are an idiot. Any normal person would fear my appearance."

Harry just giggled. He didn't think anything about this was normal. Besides, normal was quite boring, if he were to be honest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now the name of the story kinda makes sense. Mind blown.
> 
> Until next time.
> 
> Check out texasbeanwrites-stuffhere on tumblr if you're so inclined. I post stuff there sometimes.
> 
> *kisses*


	3. In which there is a Parliament of Owls (and a Giant is there Too)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People have birthdays, letters are delivered, and there's a snake and a Giant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you kindly for the kudos

It was Dudley's birthday, and due to Harry's usual babysitter Mrs. Figg getting a broken ankle – much to the annoyance to everyone involved (and Harry's upmost dismay) the Dursley's really had no choice but to take Harry with them.

He tried to get out of it, truly he did – Harry felt that he deserved credit for that much – he had insisted that he be left behind to at least help Mrs. Figg around her house. Even though he rather disliked staying with the woman and her house smelled like cabbages and the barest hint of ammonia.

But as Vernon said, "You shouldn't bother Mrs. Figg when she's recovering; you'll likely make her condition worse. Plus…we don't want that…freakish hooligan of yours visiting us again, now would we? We wouldn't want him to think that we-we weren't taking care of you…"

Harry pouted from his spot in the backseat of the car, with Dudley not daring to speak up about the unfairness of it all. He wanted to protest that Harry would somehow ruin his birthday party; but with the potential visit of Harry's 'freakish hooligan' as a looming threat, he wisely chose to keep quiet. In fact, when Piers started to question why Harry was there, he earned an elbow jammed into his ribs and a desperate shake of Dudley's head.

Malcom simply stared straight ahead as he was the one who had to sit next to Harry. He did his best to ignore the other boy. Harry creeped him out – ever since that evening six years ago; the mysterious man who had broken his arm without a second thought all for the protection of Harry – made Malcom especially wary of the other boy.

What ensued was the most uncomfortably silent car ride. Not even Petunia forced herself to make conversation for the sake of merriment. Vernon grasped the steering wheel with a near-white-knuckled grip and focused on driving.

The 'freakish hooligan' scowled from within the mind room.  _/ "Why must we be tormented like this? Dammit, I should have figured that revealing myself to your relatives would backfire."/_

Ulquiorra would be the first to admit that he was not the nicest person, nor had he been the most compassionate; but surely, none of his past actions warranted  _this_.

 _It will be over soon,_ Harry insisted, as he glared out the window.

Harry split off from his relatives and Dudley's friends, knowing for certain that they wouldn't leave him behind nor would they miss him if he were gone right now – he eventually made his way to the reptile house. Looking at all the various scaled creatures, and wandering around in boredom, Harry came upon a large python lying in one of the large enclosures, warming itself on a rock.

She was beautiful, he thought. Something compelled him to say,  _"Aren't you a pretty girl?"_

 _/ "Why are you hissing at it?"/_ Ulquiorra asked,  _/ "It's not like it can understand you."/_

" _Hissing? What do you mean? I'm not hissing."_

_/ "Yes, you are. You're doing it right now."/_

The python slowly raised its head, and looked at Harry.  _"Why, hello there, young man."_

Harry's jaw dropped and Ulquiorra's eyes widened ever so slightly.  _/ "It_ understands _you?"/_

" _You understand me?"_ Harry asked, and the snake nodded. It actually  _nodded!_

Harry put his hand on the glass.  _"Why can I talk you? How come I can understand you?"_

" _Who knows?"_ the snake helpfully answered.  _"You're the first Human to ever do so."_

" _Wow…"_ Harry whispered, putting his other hand on the glass.  _"You know…a talking snake is hardly the weirdest thing to ever happen to me."_

Suddenly, the glass that Harry had his hands on disappeared, and the snake made a break for it. She briefly turned to look up at Harry, ignoring all the panicked screams.  _"Thanks, dear."_

Harry just nodded,  _"Uh, don't get caught again?"_

The snake slithered off, leaving Harry and Ulquiorra to question what exactly just happened.

_/ "So…you can talk to snakes…"/_

_Apparently._

0000

It was nearing the end of July, nearing Harry's 11th birthday. He was up in his room, and he thought that he saw an owl pass by his bedroom window. Surely, he was imagining it. Owls didn't come out this time of day. Ulquiorra didn't say anything, so perhaps he had either thought it wasn't a concern or wasn't paying attention because he was reading, or doing whatever it was when he wasn't looking out of the screen.

Ulquiorra usually listened more than watched, as he often said that Harry's observation skills were nearly non-existent. But, Harry liked to think that he was improving. At least, he thought he was, since Ulquiorra hadn't told him that those skills were lacking as much anymore. Or, he said it when he thought that there was something that Harry should have noticed.

There was a quick banging on Harry's door, and Dudley's rushed voice, "Harry, Mum says come down for lunch!" followed by quickly retreating footsteps.

Harry sighed, wishing he could continue piddling away in his room, but knew that getting to eat lunch at the same time as everyone else shouldn't be taken for granted.

When Harry made his way into the kitchen, he noticed an odd tension coming from his aunt and uncle right away. It wasn't his place to question it, but still. He sat down, gave a polite, "Thank you for the food, Aunt Petunia," and dug in.

_/ "They keep glancing at you; it's annoying."/_

Harry busied himself with eating, but he wondered,  _Well, what could I have done? I haven't done anything to warrant that reaction… unless… Do you think they found out about the snake?_

_/ "I don't think so, otherwise they would have mentioned it, I'm sure."/_

Harry chose not to comment on the weirdness of his relatives. But the way Aunt Petunia kept sending him glances through narrowed gazes and tight frowns; and the way Uncle Vernon scowled at him as if Harry was openly displaying all of his freakishness in full glory made the meal much less enjoyable. Even Dudley seemed to realize that something was up, but he didn't comment on it, as he was busy eating. He clearly had his priorities.

Harry ate his fill, and looked to the adults. "May I be excused, please?"

"Put your dish in the sink and come down around seven to wash the dishes." Aunt Petunia replied tightly.

Something was definitely going on.

"Yes, ma'am."

000

Now, the reason for Petunia and Vernon's discomfort came from a certain letter that arrived with the post that afternoon. It was a letter enclosed in parchment, with elegant emerald scrawl, sealed with wax. Petunia knew right away what that letter was, and what it meant. It was  _them._

Surely, Harry's freakish guardian wouldn't know if he never received the letter if Harry didn't think to ask. The man had never brought up anything about  _those people;_ only concern for how Harry was being treated. He had only shown up twice in their lives; once, to punish her poor Dudders without cause around six years ago; and then five years ago when he was in their home entirely uninvited to express his displeasure for how Harry was being punished, among other things.

Obviously, he hadn't been so kind as to take the ungrateful brat off of her hands, but she sincerely hoped that the man wouldn't show up again this time.

So, she pretended that the letter didn't exist. That was the best solution, after all.

But then…

The next day, two letters arrived. Then three. Then four. Then five. Then six. Every time, she threw the letters into the fire, cursing  _those people,_ and pretended that the letters had never arrived. Meanwhile, Harry was giving her and Vernon both odd looks, as if he knew something was going on, but didn't know exactly what.

It was entirely unnerving, because it was as if the boy had somehow grown more observant over the years, and not in the – dare she say it –  _magical_ sense.

But they sat in the living room, and Harry polished the silver – and not because she had asked. Whatever his reasons were, she didn't know and didn't want to ask. He was contributing, but yet, it was as if he had his own motivations whenever he went out of his way to lift a finger to help around the house.

Vernon sat on his chair nervously, eyes scanning the room. "Know what's good about Sundays? No post on Sundays."

Petunia noticed that Harry looked at Vernon and frowned, ever so slightly. He seemed like he wanted to ask a question, but stopped, for whatever reason. Harry shook his head, and placed the silver back into its proper place in the display case, and he was walking out of the sitting room when he paused to look out the window.

"There're owls outside…" he said.

"What?" Vernon nearly shouted.

"There's a flock…" Harry paused very briefly. "A  _parliament_  of owls outside. I've never seen so many…" Harry glanced outside once again. "I guess I wasn't imaging it when I thought I saw one earlier this week. Isn't it strange though, all of them being out this time of day?"

"Get away from the window, this instant!" Vernon yelled, and Petunia frowned when Dudley startled at the yell, yet Harry simply slid a curious glance at Vernon.

"Why?"

Vernon quickly made his way over to Harry and shoved him towards the stairs. "Just do as I say!"

Just then, letters poured out of the fireplace and into the sitting room. Petunia screamed, and Dudley screamed too. Vernon started yelling, and he gaped when letters poured out of the mail slot.

"Don't touch a bloody thing, especially  _you,"_ Vernon pointed a sausage-like finger towards Harry,"boy!"

000

Obviously, Vernon didn't want Harry to know what these letters were. Harry quickly snatched a letter from the floor and shoved it under his shirt, and then clamored up the stairs and around the corner. He and Ulquiorra briefly switched, and Harry dropped the odd letter onto a table in the mind room, and switched out.

Harry only stumbled very briefly, and felt his head spin like he had twirled a bit too long, but he didn't feel sick or feel like he was passing out. Harry then stood at the top of the stairs, observing the bizarre pandemonium that his relatives were displaying.

"Grab the letters! Each and every one! We have to toss them out!" Petunia was screeching. "Dudley, do not touch a thing!"

Meanwhile, in the mind room…

Ulquiorra frowned as he looked at the letter,  _/ "To Mister H. Potter, the third bedroom, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey… You've been cordially invited to attend someplace called Hogwarts…What an absurd name. This letter is something you have to see for yourself."/_

Ulquiorra thought that the entire thing was ridiculous. But looking at the way the relatives were acting,  _was_  it ridiculous?

Harry was sent up to his bedroom and ordered to stay there. He wasn't allowed to come out unless it was to eat or go to the bathroom. At least they weren't locking him in his room. On the bright side, he didn't have to do any chores; but he was getting bored. But it was entertaining that whenever he saw Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, they both looked increasingly frazzled – and the owls outside were growing in number, and the letters kept coming.

Harry had read his letter from front to back many times over the following days. It talked of cauldrons, books, brooms, and robes. So this place was a school… and the Headmaster had a name that was just odd.

_/ "Your relatives clearly know something about this Hogwarts place. What are they so afraid of?"/_

Harry sighed.  _This isn't how I imagined spending my birthday._

A fist pounded on Harry's door, and his uncle's form filled the doorway as he came in. "Boy, pack up! We're leaving!"

Harry couldn't help but ask incredulously, "I'm going  _with_  you? Why?"

"Don't ask questions!" Vernon thundered. "Be quick about it!"

Instead, Harry kept his expression neutral as he asked, "What's Hogwarts?"

Uncle Vernon froze, wide-eyed. "What…what ruddy nonsense are you going on about now?!"

"Hogwarts, the owls…you and Aunt Petunia obviously know something." Harry cocked his head thoughtfully. "Hmm…I wonder if I should call my guardian… _he_  might know something."

Uncle Vernon turned red, nearly rivaling a tomato. Through gritted teeth he ordered, "Don't. Move."

He then proceeded to slam the door and Harry heard him yelling at Aunt Petunia as he thundered down the stairs. There was more yelling and shouting, before Uncle Vernon came back, followed by Aunt Petunia.

"What is this nonsense?! I thought Vernon told you to pack up!"

"What's Hogwarts?" Harry asked again.

"It's a place where naughty children go…" Aunt Petunia started, and Harry tuned her out to listen to Ulquiorra.

_/ "She's lying, at least…partially. She always scratches behind her right ear when she lies; or at least when she's nervous."/_

Sure enough, Aunt Petunia was anxiously scratching behind her right ear.

Just then, there was a loud boom downstairs that caused all of the room's occupants to jump, and Dudley's voice rung out from downstairs.

"MUMMY! DAD! THERE'S A LARGE MAN IN OUR HOUSE!"

0000

Hagrid entered the household, and glanced around. The first boy he spotted was quite a fat one – and the boy looked up at him with wide eyes, after he was done screaming.

"'Ello there, Harry," the half-giant smiled, though it was hidden by his bushy beard. "I was wonderin' when yeh would respon' ta the letters we been sendin' yeh. Since it's late an' all, ol' Dumbledore though' tha' I should come an' get yeh."

'Harry' blinked up at him. "I-I'm not Harry."

"Yer not?"

But then, a boy who was thin and was the spitting image of James Potter himself – but with Lily's eyes – came down the stairs and stayed out of arms' length as he cautiously replied, "I'm Harry. Who are you?"

Hagrid puffed himself up with a bit of pride, "I'm Rubeus Hagrid at yer service, Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts!"

"So…what is Hogwarts?"

"Why, it's one of the bes' magic schools there is!"

Instead of Harry acting excited, as Hagrid expected him to, Harry gave Hagrid a look that he couldn't really decipher. There was no excitement on the boy's part; in fact, it was a stare as if he was taking everything about Hagrid in. Hagrid couldn't help but straighten himself up at that discerning gaze.

"Very well, I'll go." Harry turned to look at his stricken Aunt and Uncle before his gaze slowly went back to Hagrid. "Should I pack my things?"

"Uh, no…that shouln' be needed. Jus' a quick visit ta get yer school things…"

Harry nodded and stepped towards Hagrid before turning and leveling a gaze towards his Aunt and Uncle. "I expect answers about why you were trying to keep those letters from me when I return. At your upmost convenience, of course."

Hagrid stared at Harry. Somehow, this wasn't really how he imagined the boy. Harry was very mature, and he bordered on polite and intimidating. There was something quite disconcerting about that.

But Harry smiled up at him, and the concerns Hagrid initially had left him. Now, Harry was a child as he excitedly asked about Hogwarts, and Hagrid was more than happy to share what he knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So more pre-Hogwarts stuff. I may focus on various events before Hogwarts that show a bit more of how Harry's personality has changed over the years, or I may go to Hogwarts within a few chapters. I already have a bit of stuff written for Hogwarts, even though it mostly consists of notes.
> 
> But with references to the Dursely's being aware of Ulquiorra, maybe in a few chapters I'll reveal how that happened. I will say that it was a very stressful time in the Dursley's lives.


	4. In which Various Things Go Askew, and No-one Really Knows Why

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry goes with Hagrid to Diagon Alley where he learns unexpected truths. Harry shakes hands with the blond next to him when they are measured for their robes. The wand-maker is confused when the wand he was sure Harry Potter would have rejects him. Oh, yeah, animals don't like Harry... but a certain snake expresses interest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the support. Ya lovelies deserve butterbeer and chocolate frogs.

It turned out that Hagrid was an incredible fount of information once he was asked a question – because he would answer the question while throwing in bits of details that would have seemed inconsequential in any other situation. Ulquiorra found it annoying but necessary; while Harry listened in wide-eyed wonderment. Hagrid's stories only brought about more questions, and Harry's mental list on what to ask Hagrid next kept growing.

Hagrid spoke jovially, "Hogwarts is amazin'. There, you'll learn ta fly, all sorts of spellwork, an' ol' McGonagall, you'll like her," he beamed as he said, "and there's the Headmaster, 'ol Albus Dumbledore hisself."

"So, did my parents go to this Hogwarts place? You mentioned something earlier?"

"Oh, yes! James an' Lily Potter! Good folks." Hagrid's jovial tone died out a little as he somberly added, "Died protectin' you they did."

So they  _hadn't_  died in a car crash? That was going on the list of things to ask his relatives about.

"You knew them?" Harry asked, and Hagrid beamed at the boy's questions. "What were they like?"

"They were amazin' folk, always kind." Hagrid said solemnly. "James was a bit 'eadstrong, an' Lily was so bright, her spellwork was somethin' else."

"…what did they protect me from?" Harry asked, an odd feeling in his stomach.

"The darkest wizard of our time, You-Know-Who."

Frowning, Harry added, "No, I don't know who."

"We don' say his name." Hagrid said, clearly uncomfortable by the direction the conversation was going.

"Why won't you say his name? Can't you write it down, at least?"

"Nah, could never do tha'."

"Why not?" Harry felt slightly frustrated, but kept his calm.

"Because it's cursed – his name's taboo, it is."

It bothered Harry somewhat, that Hagrid wouldn't tell him the name of the man who murdered his parents. He would just have to get the information from elsewhere. The fact that he was so tight-lipped about this particular subject made thing all the more intriguing.

"Why's everyone so scared of him?"

"Because of all the dark deeds he's done," Hagrid answered.

Harry was determined to get the information he wanted – he just had to be patient.

Eventually, Hagrid led the way to a rundown-looking building. Harry was under the impression that was a place he would lead someone to in order to commit illicit dealings. Or contract tetanus. Harry was thankful that he was caught up on all his shots.

 _/_ "This  _is the place they take people to? For all the bragging that Giant is doing, you'd think they'd want to make a better impression."/_

As they entered the rundown building, Ulquiorra was of the opinion that the outside looked far better than the inside. As for the people inside; hooded figures and people who looked tired and worn. They seemed to be the sort of people one could find in a place like this. That could either be a good or a bad thing, depending on the situation.

The barkeeper greeted Hagrid with a friendly, toothless smile. He looked like a walnut. "Hello, Hagrid. The usual?"

"Nah," Hagrid was quite proud as he motioned to Harry, "Got Hogwarts business."

Old Tom might as well have announced Harry's presence with a megaphone. "Harry Potter!"

Suddenly, all eyes were on him, and a crowd was around him – reaching for him, pushing back his hair, touching his forehead and grabbing at his hands. Ulquiorra nearly considered switching out, but then Harry punched someone – it didn't hurt the man too much, but it did surprise him.

Then, Harry focused his energy (or, maybe he should call it magic at this point) and channeled it into his hands, where he then shoved everyone several feet away from himself. Harry then quickly retreated to Hagrid's side, and hid behind him. He figured looking like a frightened child would make these people think twice about mobbing someone.

"Hagrid, who are those people?"

The people looked shocked and afraid (though a few did look ashamed) and Hagrid reached down and gently patted Harry on the head.

"It's alrigh'…folks are jus' excited to see yeh, is all."

Harry thought of the things that irritated him most and glared out at the crowd, who flinched back. He let his voice harden and carry, "I thought that they were attacking me."

The people of course, had expressions of surprise and more expressed guilt. Others though, looked almost worried for some reason.

"Don' haveta worry abou' tha' none." Hagrid said, as he guided Harry out of the backdoor. Looking back, he added somewhat awkwardly, "Sorry, everyone…uh, later, Tom."

After shutting the door behind them, Hagrid knelt down. Although he easily still towered over Harry as he did so. Putting a hand on Harry's shoulder, he asked, "Yeh alrigh' Harry?"

"I'm fine, thank you." Harry answered with a small smile.

Hagrid gently patted Harry's shoulder and stood once more.

Out in the alley behind the pub, Harry stared at the trash bins and the brick wall. He felt like he needed a bath from just looking at the place. Hagrid then took out a pink umbrella, and tapped a series of bricks in a certain way, and Ulquiorra was sure to pay attention for future reference.

Then, the wall opened; the bricks spinning and shifting as they revealed Diagon Alley.

"First stop, the wizarding bank – Gringotts!"

00000

The bank was a truly impressive building – it was also the most notable, being marble-white, towering over everything else. Tiny, wrinkly old men and women with pointed ears and faces wearing business suits walked around, leading various witches and wizards to wherever it was they needed to be.

A Goblin bowed as they entered, and Harry bowed back because he thought that was what he was supposed to do – he almost missed the surprised look that crossed the Goblin's face. The boy just grinned, thinking he had followed the social norms – he was catching on quickly, he was sure – and followed after Hagrid.

There was a sign that poetically warned thieves to not attempt stealing anything; otherwise there would be deadly consequences.

_Couldn't they just say, 'don't steal or you'll die trying?'"_

_/ "It's presentation."/_

Hagrid walked up to the counter, which had a very unimpressed Goblin sitting behind it. Hagrid said something to the Goblin, and then proceeded to empty the contents of his pockets onto the counter before presenting a key. The Goblin gave the packets of animal food, trinkets, and lint a rather scathing look before taking the key.

"The proper key holder's blood will be needed," and the Goblin reached out a long fingered hand to Harry.

Harry ended up having to walk up to the counter and stand up on his tiptoes as he presented his stretched out hand to the Goblin, who quickly and nearly painlessly took a drop of Harry's blood to confirm that he was in fact the owner of the vault that the key went to.

Ulquiorra narrowed his eyes when Hagrid presented Harry's vault key. Something about that fact bothered him.

_/ "Why wouldn't he just give you the key to your vault? I'd completely understand if he were a courier, but that doesn't really feel like what this is."/_

_Why do you have to be so suspicious of everything? Hagrid's been nice with just about everything._

_/ "…You have the survival instincts of a gnat."/_

_Gee, thanks. The level of trust you give me is astounding._

A Goblin named Griphook led Harry and Hagrid through a large door into a mine – and there were numerous vaults as well, going down as far as Harry could see. They were directed to a mine cart, and looking out, there were several more carts on other tracks, zipping every which way.

"Hang on tight." Griphook said with a sharp-toothed grin. Before anyone could say a word in response, the Goblin pulled on a lever, and the cart shot off down the track – twisting in a spiraling motion as they descended.

Harry put his hands up in the air and shrieked in delight.

Hagrid hung on tight and moaned miserably. Although Hagrid was glad that Harry was having a good time, he wondered how Harry could be enjoying this so much.

Once the cart came to a stop, Harry bounced off. "Mr. Griphook, you have the luckiest job ever!"

"How so?" the Goblin asked with a raised, wrinkly brow.

"You get to ride in those carts…" Harry's eyes sparkled and his hair was even wilder than before. "Going that fast is  _amazing."_

Griphook snorted in mild amusement. "This way, Mr. Potter."

When the Goblin opened the vault, it took all of Harry's willpower to not let his jaw drop.  _"All_ of this is  _mine?"_

 _/ "They use_ real _gold as currency?"/_ Ulquiorra was in all honesty, perplexed.  _/ "You are aware how easily this can be exploited, aren't you?"/_

_Well…you aren't wrong._

Harry would think about it later, as Griphook was talking to him.

"Yes, all of this is yours. Upon the deaths of your parents, they left everything to you." Griphook pulled a small sack from his pocket and handed it to Harry. "For the amount you wish to carry."

It was with that comment that got Ulquiorra thinking. As Harry gathered actual gold, Ulquiorra said,  _/ "I think you should ask about your parents' assets, while we're here. It's reasonable to assume that if they left you_ this,  _then there has to be more."/_

Harry nodded, and once he was done, turned to the Goblin. "Mr. Griphook, is there a way we could look at my parents' assets today?"

"Of course."

Before they could exit the mine, however, they went down to a different vault where Hagrid picked up a weird object of some sort that was in a small, leather bag. The half-Giant stuffed the sack into one of his many pockets, ensuring it disappeared amongst all the other things he had stored inside. Hagrid tried but failed to be subtle about it. It was like Uncle Vernon trying to be subtle about eating the leftover custard pie that he wasn't supposed to have.

Hagrid couldn't have made it any less obvious as he repeatedly patted the pocket where he had placed the small object; all while glancing around.

"What is that?" Harry asked, mostly because of how odd the situation was. To him, it was like Dudley and his friends holding onto something as they observed it in a semi-circle; only to pretend that what they had wasn't important or none-existent when questioned.

"Oh… Hogwarts' business." Hagrid replied a little too quickly.

Harry decided not to press the issue.

Ulquiorra was suspicious again.

Afterwards, Griphook led Harry to an office that was in an offshoot from the main part of the bank. Since Hagrid wasn't a blood relative, or related to Harry in any way whatsoever, he wasn't allowed to enter the Goblin's office. The Goblin behind the desk wore a monocle, and he glared up at the boy who entered his office.

"Snagtooth, Mr. Potter wishes to see his parents' assets." Griphook said upon closing the door.

"Of course," Snagtooth said. "One moment. Have a seat, please."

"Thank you," Harry replied politely.

Harry sat down on a cushy chair and waited for only a few moments as Snagtooth spoke into some sort of old-fashioned phone-looking device. Minutes later, the Goblin reached into a cubby that was next to the phone, and pulled out a decorative-looking canister.

"Your key." Snagtooth said, holding out a clawed hand.

When Snagtooth unlocked the canister, some sort of mechanism popped out, and it had a tiny, sharp, pointed end.

"Now, a drop of your blood," Snagtooth said, and Harry had to prick a finger again to squeeze a few drops of blood on the pointed section of the canister.

Afterwards, the various designs whirled, and it opened. Snagtooth sorted through several papers before handing one over to the boy.

It was his parents' will.  _James Potter_ and  _Lily Potter_ were elegantly scrawled on the bottom. Harry carefully ran a finger over the names.

 _These are my parents…_ Harry smiled.

Harry took a look at the contents of the will.  _Please help me understand what I'm reading…_

When he was reading the will at the same time as Harry, Ulquiorra noticed something in particular.  _/ "Potter…look at paragraph twelve."/_

_What…?_

"Sirs?" Harry looked up to the Goblins. "What is a Secret-Keeper?"

"It is someone who is bound to an Oath; they promise to hold your deepest, darkest secrets, and will tell no-one. If they break that promise, though…" Snagtooth's grin was ghastly, "For nearly five minutes, it feels as if your insides are on fire, and your flesh is being stripped away. If one breaks an Oath even once, they are forever marked. No amount of Glamour Charms or even Polyjuice potion will hide the blemish of betrayal."

Harry gripped the paper tightly in his hand. "What happens if the will," Harry held up the one in his hand, and listened to Ulquiorra who provided him with the words he needed, "isn't abided by? Like… what should I do if I, as an orphan ended up staying with blood relatives when my parents wanted me to stay with my godfather?"

"It is something you will have to take up with the wizarding courts," Snagtooth said. "We Goblins only deal in riches. If someone were stealing from you, the heir, then we would have an issue. But not abiding by the wishes of the deceased for living heirs such as yourself; that is a domestic dispute."

"Where's Sirius Black, then?"

"He's in the wizarding prison Azkaban for betraying your parents to the Dark Lord, murdering several Muggles along with Peter Pettigrew, and because he was supposedly your parents' Secret Keeper."

That didn't sound right. There was only one conclusion that Ulquiorra could come to.  _/ "They never read the will. Or, they blatantly ignored it."/_

"I'm confused." Harry muttered, running his hand through his hair, messing it up even more. "Why wouldn't anyone read the will?"

"It was a dark time for you wizards," Snagtooth explained. "You Humans tend to panic amidst chaos, and since your family was killed; the only way for that to happen was for the Secret Keeper to reveal them… they didn't even bother. I would have had a more…severe punishment for the Secret Keeper, had it been my choice."

_/ "I can appreciate how these Goblins think."/_

Harry resisted rolling his eyes.  _Of course you would. And because I can't do it right now, I want you to know I'm mentally rolling my eyes at you._

"Can I have copies of these files?"

"Of course." Snagtooth took the desired files and rang a small bell on his desk. Moments later, another Goblin entered the room from a different door. Handing the files over to the new Goblin, Snagtooth said, "Make copies of these for Mr. Potter."

Taking the files, the Goblin bowed, and then exited the room.

As Harry waited, he began wondering exactly how he would go about freeing a man who didn't have a trial.

_/ "I should warn you, Potter; people who can unjustly imprison the innocent are people to be feared because of their position in society. These are people with power, money and influence. They would not take kindly to your accusations." /_

_Then what do I do?_

_/ "Think carefully with every step you take concerning this entire situation. Let them be the ones to make assumptions and underestimate you. In their eyes, you will be nothing more than a sniveling thorn in their side. Use the fact you are a child to your advantage." /_

_Okay… I'm glad I also have you here, Ulqui._

Ulquiorra didn't respond right away. His first thought was that Harry was a foolish boy. No-one had ever said to him something as ridiculous as 'I'm glad you're here.' Such a notion was preposterous. Ulquiorra could hear Grimmjow's laughter irritably knocking its way around in the back of his mind. It was an unwelcome intrusion.

To be told something like that…

_/ "…Just focus on what you have to do. We'll have to learn the wizard's ways. That means finding flaws and loopholes if you want to have an advantage over them." /_

_Oh…maybe even blackmail!_ Harry resisted grinning like one Mr. Burns and putting his fingertips together in the middle of Snagtooth's office while saying, 'Excellent.'  _I saw that one guy do it on that program… it really made the person he did it to angry, and they had no choice but to listen to him!_

_/ "Anything you can find will certainly give you an advantage." /_

Harry wondered if he should make a hit list.

The Goblin came back not long after, with the desired files copied.

"Thank you," Harry said politely, and gave the Goblins a bow. Again, they looked somewhat surprised. "Have a good day."

000

Poor Hagrid increasingly looked green as he guided Harry to a place called  _Madam Malcom's_ where he could get his school robes. Hagrid shakily made his way back to the pub to get something to settle his stomach.

_/ "I highly doubt that alcohol will help. It would like have the opposite effect."/_

"Hello dear," a pleasantly plump witch greeted as Harry entered the shop. "One moment please."

0000

Draco Malfoy was bored as he waited for the witch tending to him to get his measurements. Another boy his age was directed to stand on the stool next to him. He noticed the curious expression as the tape measure measured his arms and legs; which then turned into confusion as it measured the bridge of his nose. Understandable, as it had measured Draco's ears and the length of his head.

"Hogwarts too?"

"Yeah, I-!" the boy answered with the ghost of a smile. The boy was cut off and he frowned in annoyance when the tape measure suddenly decided to measure his mouth. As it floated around elsewhere to measure something else on his person, he asked, "…Will making weird faces somehow affect how our robes are made?"

"I…" Draco hadn't ever thought about it. "I don't know."

"It would be funny, though. Imagine making weird faces and you end up with floor-length sleeves and the end of your robes end just above your knees! All because of some weird face you made!"

Draco snorted at the mental imagery, but quickly reigned it in. That was unbecoming for a Malfoy.

"Which House are you hoping for?" the boy asked as material was looped around him.

"Slytherin, obviously. My family's been in that House for generations. You?"

"That's interesting…" the boy nodded. "The man helping me kept talking about all the different Houses. I don't really care, I don't think? He told me my parents were in Gryffindor…" shrugging, the boy said, "I mean, I'm getting to go, so that's something."

Noticing the way the other boy had answered, Draco asked, "You're a Pureblood? Why don't you already know all of this?"

"To the first question, I guess?" the boy looked thoughtful. "I mean, my mum was Muggle-born, but my dad was Pureblood, so what does that make me?"

Suddenly, the boy turned to look at Draco. "Oh! I'm sorry, I completely forgot. I'm Harry. Harry Potter."

Draco gaped and even the woman tending to Harry jolted. But she was a professional, and she was quick to get back to work.

"You…"

"Please… don't do that weird gaping thing. I did something incredible apparently, I don't even remember it, and everyone's making such a huge deal out of it. It's annoying."

Pulling himself together, Draco introduced himself.

"Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

They were done being measured by now, and both boys got off their respective stools.

"Nice to meet you." Potter said as he held out his hand, and Draco shook it. Harry grinned at him.

"Oh, who's this?" his mother's voice asked.

"Mother, father, this is Harry Potter."

"Hello," Harry said, giving his parents a polite nod.

Mother extended a hand, which Harry politely shook. "Hello, I'm Draco's mother, Narcissa Malfoy."

"Lucius Malfoy. I've heard incredible things about you, Mr. Potter." Father said, a slight smirk on his features.

"So've I, but I only learned about them earlier today." Harry responded very seriously before scowling. "I nearly got mobbed at the  _Leaky Cauldron,_ and almost broke one man's nose and considered stabbing someone else."

The Malfoy family all blinked at the boy, who smiled up at them, as if he had just told a small joke. "But nothing too serious happened. I think I scared them."

Harry glanced out the window, and frowned again. He muttered, "It's been awhile… shouldn't he be back by now?"

"Who?" Mother questioned.

"My guide, I guess you could call him. The cart ride in Gringotts made him sick; so he went back to the  _Leaky Cauldron_  to get something to relax his stomach. Quite the counter-productive solution, or so I've been told."

As a future Slytherin, it was best to get in various people's good graces. Getting into Harry Potter's circle of allies would certainly be a wise decision.

"If it is alright with father and mother, we could help you out?" Draco looked up at his parents, and they nodded in agreement.

"We can just meet up with your guide, later." Mother agreed.

"Thank you," Harry said with a grin. He then walked next to Draco as they left the robe shop. "So why Slytherin and not the other Houses?"

Draco then proceeded to excitedly brag about Slytherin and all of its accomplishments. He may have talked down some about the other Houses, but Harry never once interrupted him; and he always asked a question that let Draco tell him everything he knew or had overheard. Of course, Draco was careful to keep certain things to himself, but it was nice to be able to share his knowledge with someone who didn't already know it.

"Why don't you already know all of this, Potter?"

"Oh, I grew up in the Muggle world, with Muggle relatives. Ones on my mum's side."

"…You poor sod."

0000

Harry couldn't help but watch in fascination as Draco went through a variety of wands; each having varying (albeit slightly disastrous) effects when the other boy waved the wand. Things exploded or went flying off of the shelves; which was quite entertaining. Or before Draco even had a chance to wave the wand, Mr. Ollivander would suddenly grab the wand and replace it just as quickly, all while muttering, "No, no, this won't do," and "That's not quite right."

Finally, a wand that was 10" hawthorn with a unicorn hair core produced a spray of silvery sparks, and Draco grinned – although he quickly hid it and acted serious as he faced his father. It seemed as if Draco expected something, but didn't really get whatever it was as Mr. Malfoy nodded and gave Mr. Ollivander a few gold coins. Lady Malfoy smiled and patted Draco's shoulder with pride, and Draco at least looked happy about that.

It seemed odd, Harry thought. It was as if there was something about Mr. Malfoy that he didn't like, but he couldn't really put his finger on whatever it was.  _I don't like him. I can't say why._

_/ "It's the way he carries himself; he seems to think he's better than everyone. He's obviously compensating for something. On the bright side, your instincts are quick to notice narcissists."/_

Harry was jolted out of the conversation when a voice asked in a near-whisper, "Harry Potter?"

Harry slowed his racing heart, and nodded.

"I knew I'd be seeing you in here one day," Mr. Ollivander said, his gaze piercing. "Let's find you a wand, shall we?"

Harry started through wands, with Mr. Ollivander smiling in a way that reminded Harry of when Dudley was looking at a pile of sweets. Many of them caused things to go flying off of the shelves, stirring up centuries-old dust. A few even caused small explosions that were as loud as firecrackers.

"Here we are, try this one." Mr. Ollivander said expectantly, handing Harry a wand. "11" holly, with a phoenix feather core."

Harry waved the wand, and something nearby exploded, violently – more so than the others. Harry quickly shoved the wand back into the box, and mumbled, "Sorry!"

Now, Ollivander stared at Harry and then at the wand, with an odd, befuddled expression on his face. The wand whose brother had given Harry that infamous scar… had  _rejected_  him?

"Fascinating…curious…most curious…" Ollivander whispered, looking at the wand. Surely, he had thought… the only wands so far that hadn't had that volatile reactions were yew… which, was quite frightening, yet exhilarating; so Ollivander chose a variety of yew wands with various cores.

Finally, Harry got a near, bone-white wand that produced a spray of dark green sparks when he waved it.

Ollivander's voice was a whisper. "That is 12" yew, with Thestral hair core… that is rare, very rare indeed. Witches and wizards who have such wands…they have a dark and fearsome reputation."

"Why's that, sir?" Harry asked.

"They specialize and duels and curses," Ollivander answered, "those who have possessed such wands have done great and terrible things alike, and… it is reputed to enable its possessor with power over life and death. But to  _also_ have a Thestral's hair core…that makes it all the more rare and fascinating. This was most excellent."

Young Harry smiled, as he looked at his wand. "Really?"

Dueling sounded fun.

Within the room – from what Ulquiorra could see in Harry's field of vision on the screen; while Harry studied his wand, the Arancar noticed that Mr. Malfoy seemed to be studying Harry for some reason.

_/ "Don't look his way, but the elder Malfoy is giving you a look that makes me all the more wary of him. He's a threat."/_

Harry distracted himself by returning his wand into its box, and put it into one of his shopping bags, then paid Mr. Ollivander.

As they stepped outside, Mr. Malfoy put a hand on Harry's shoulder, "That's quite a fascinating wand, Mr. Potter."

Harry saw out of the corner of his eye, Draco give him a look that he would almost describe as jealous. But the way Mr. Malfoy said it made Harry uncomfortable. It was just like Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon complimenting someone to get in their good graces. It was much smoother, but his tone was the same. Harry tried not to stiffen as he stared at his shoes.

 _/ "Stay calm, Potter."/_ Ulquiorra's voice was a much-needed comfort.

Harry looked at the man's silvery-blond hair. Anywhere except his eyes. "Thank you, sir."

"I imagine you'll do great things."

"I just want to learn magic, that's all. And dueling. I like that sort of thing." Harry said quickly, as he turned to go towards the  _Leaky Cauldron,_ pulling away from Mr. Malfoy's hand. He wanted to put as much distance between him and Mr. Malfoy as possible. Taking in a deep breath, Harry then put on his most serious face that he could muster, just like how Ulquiorra had instructed him to. "I have to go now. I need to find my escort, and finish the rest of my shopping. Thank you for assisting me, earlier. Have a good day, sir, and ma'am." Harry turned to Draco and offered a small smile. "I'll see you at school, Draco. If I'm in a different House, I'd still like to be friends. Thank you for telling me about Hogwarts. Goodbye."

Harry walked away, leaving the Malfoy family slightly perplexed. For a good while, Lucius had been certain that Harry Potter was a passive, quiet, serious-yet-overly-polite boy. But then there was a change, of some sort. Like an eerie calmness had washed over him, and the Potter boy had an air about him that spoke of something more; like he was deserving of the reverence people thought that they should show him – like he was worthy of the Potter name. But the problem was, Lucius couldn't put a finger on why that made him so uneasy.

0000

On his way towards the Leaky Caldron, Harry noticed an interesting bookstore. He popped in for just a few minutes to peruse the selections, and with Ulquiorra's suggestions, books that involved wizarding law, history, and customs.

The Arancar had decided that since he had nothing but time, it would be best to spend it learning everything he could about this society. Especially if they were willing to send a seemingly innocent man to prison. That spoke of negligence and corruption.

The store clerk gave Harry an amused look. "Quite a bit of reading material for one so young."

"Oh, they aren't for me." Harry said, providing the necessary galleons. "They're for a friend who asked me to pick them up. Since I was going to pass by here anyway on my way to the  _Leaky Cauldron,_ I didn't see why not."

"You're quite a helpful young lad, aren't you?"

The man was either being condescending or complimenting him. Harry didn't bother to care either way.

"I try." Harry picked up the book bag, and managed to carry it out albeit with a struggle. Looking around, Harry ducked into an alley between some crates, and quickly switched with Ulquiorra to drop everything off before switching out again.

Harry then left the alley, and no-one was the wiser.

He ran into Hagrid a few doors down from the bookshop, and the man did look somewhat better. Maybe Giants (or half-Giants, in this case) were different than Humans when it came to alcohol.

00o00

Hagrid had only had a few beers, but not nearly enough to get him buzzed. He excitedly led Harry over to a place called  _Magical Menagerie,_  and he put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Now, we need ta get yeh a decent pet! An owl would be best. It can deliver letters, and is very loyal."

Harry let Hagrid guide him towards the section that housed the owls. Hagrid motioned to a beautiful, white snowy owl.

"Wha' abou' thissun, then?"

She  _was_  beautiful, but Harry didn't think he'd have a place for her. He had read something somewhere about caring for owls, and his neighborhood didn't exactly seem to be the place for an owl.

"Where am I supposed to-!" Harry started saying, when the owl screeched angrily and loudly and flapped her wings at him. Even Hagrid jerked back in surprise at the aggressive display. In fact…  _all_ of the owls were screeching and hissing, and the ravens were just as bad. The shopkeeper ran over and started trying to calm the panicked birds.

" _Heh, heh, heh…"_ a feminine voice whispered just barely heard above the noise.  _"Birds are such a flighty bunch. Can't even handle one such as you properly. What featherbrains."_

The voice laughed at its joke.

Harry turned towards the voice.

" _I smell something on you young man… though…I'm not quite sure what it is. Death follows you, yet…it is not a threat to_ you _. Why is that?"_

Harry walked over to a cage in the corner to see some sort of snake creature that was coiled up, with its leathery wings wrapped around itself, with only its horned head sticking out on top.

_/ "It can sense me?"/_

" _What are you talking about?"_ Harry asked quietly.

The snake smiled. She actually  _smiled._ Harry had no idea that was even possible.

" _There is a lingering scent of death and bone, of something powerful and ancient. I know not why you smell like this, but it is oddly comforting."_

" _What are you?"_

Slowly, the snake uncoiled itself, revealing colors of blues and greens that shimmered on her scales, with two magenta stripes that went from the horns on her head all the way down to her tail that held several sharp spines _._ She had two sets of wings; a large pair where her shoulders were, and a smaller pair where back feet would have been. Golden yellow eyes with a slit pupil stared at Harry.

" _I'm a descendant of an Amphiptere and snakes,_ _though much smaller, and_ far _more poisonous."_

"Oh, are you interested in her?" a voice asked, and Harry turned to see the shopkeeper, who by now had managed to calm the birds down.

Harry just nodded. This was all so surreal.

"This is a winged snake, and they are incredibly rare to have as a Familiar."

Noticing the questioning look on Harry's face, she continued, "They are descended from a type of dragon, and they will only ever serve those they find worthy. They are extremely poisonous, but they will never harm their Human partner nor those that the Human trusts."

The woman turned slightly, and furrowed her brow. "She's expressed interest in you…I've never seen her move unless it was to eat something."

Harry looked at the snake, then stepped towards the shopkeeper and asked, "What all do they do?"

"These winged snakes make excellent guardians," the woman explained, "they can camouflage themselves, and if anyone or anything tries to attack you from behind, they have an extremely protective and deadly snake to contend with. Plus, they can also deliver letters for you.

"I'll admit that a downfall for owls and ravens, is that there is a chance the mail they're carrying could be intercepted. But with one of these, the person  _will_  be bitten, and they just might lose a limb."

"I'll take her."

The woman smiled and went to get a cage and the required files for owning such a creature.

Hagrid seemed overly excited when he saw what Harry was getting. He had a beaming smile on his face.

"Wha' a rare creature tha' is!"

Harry held up the cage.  _"I'm not sure what I'm going to name her yet."_

Hagrid's face fell, and the shopkeeper screamed, but she quickly muffled it and stared at Harry in wide-eyed horror.

"You speak the language of snakes!" the woman whispered in terror. She backed away as if Harry had threateningly advanced towards her.

Harry was genuinely confused.

" _Why is that bad?"_

"STOP IT!" the shopkeeper screamed. "GET OUT!"

Harry quickly left, feeling disturbed.

_/ "That reaction is concerning." /_

That woman looked so terrified of him…what was going on? Harry walked fast.

" _Master, your emotions are distressed."_

_/ "Potter… are you… you need to calm down. This is not a situation where you should let your emotions dictate your actions." /_

Harry began to run. He ran to the alley where he had changed with Ulquiorra earlier, and debated switching out. He wanted to curl into a ball. That woman had been so scared of him, all because he had "hissed". Hagrid had looked at him like…

Something wet was running down Harry's face. He was crying. Bloody hell. This was something stupid to get so upset over. It shouldn't bother him. Why did it bother him? Harry wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

" _I didn't mean to jostle you…"_

" _It's alright, Master."_

He covered …she didn't have a name, yet. He covered his winged snake's cage with the provided cloth.

"Stupid, so stupid. Can we switch right now?"

_/ "That's not a good idea. Someone who looks like me is bound to be noticed. If we were somewhere with no possible witnesses, than yes, I would switch." /_

"There yeh are."

Harry looked up at Hagrid. The way his beard moved and the way his eyes were shaped; it was clear that he was smiling – but there was a sad quality to it.

"Why did she look at me like that, Hagrid? Are you—are you scared of me too?"

Hagrid sat down on one of the crates, which creaked under his weight and fortunately didn't break. He gently patted Harry's shoulder with an oversized-hand.

"It was scary, yeah." Hagrid nodded. "It's Parseltongue tha' is. The Dark Lord I tol' yeh about… he spoke it too. People who spoke tha' cursed speak did grea' an' evil things with it. Bu'…" Hagrid now got down on one knee so that he could look Harry in the eye. "I don' think you're evil, Harry. You're a good lad; def'nitely take after your ma an' pa."

Hagrid motioned to the covered cage. "Firs' time I've seen a winged snake so close, before. Always wanted one meself. But winged snakes will only ever pick an' choose the Human themselves."

Harry picked up the cage and uncovered it.

" _Your emotions are feeling much better, Master."_

"She's a real beauty," Hagrid said. "You picked out a name yet?"

Harry just shook his head.

" _Master, I like him. He is clearly a man of refined taste."_

Harry opened the cage, and his Familiar slithered out and wrapped around Hagrid's arm.

" _She likes you."_ Harry said quietly, although given how Hagrid reacted, he had hissed again.

" _Master, I must either be hidden from view or far enough away in order for you to speak the language of Humans. Or…you could learn to control when you speak my tongue; whether I am in your presence or not."_

She returned to her cage, and Harry covered her.

"She likes you," Harry said again. Hagrid smiled in response. "She also said I could learn control for when I…hiss. So I guess I'll be practicing that until school starts."

"Smart lad," Hagrid nodded in approval. "How abou' some ice cream before we go?"

"That would be nice."

The two rose from their spot on the ground.

"By the way…" Hagrid looked mildly flummoxed. "Where's your shoppin'?"

"I stored it away."

"Bu' how?"

"Magic." Harry said with a secretive grin.

0000

Uncle Vernon was not happy to have such an odd snake in his house; Aunt Petunia looked ready to cry; Dudley looked from the winged snake, to Harry, and then to his parents before looking at Harry again.

Upon returning home, Harry was too tired to have any sort of conversation with his relatives. But, he needed to get a few things straight.

"I've learned that my parents didn't actually die in a car accident as you've claimed. There was much more to it." Harry's voice was cool and collected; just as he'd been shown. "I'd like to know why you lied to me. I need to rest, so we'll be having this discussion later. How about tomorrow morning at 10? Perhaps until that time, you can think of a legitimate reason for why you disrespected my parents."

Uncle Vernon looked purple, and Aunt Petunia didn't look pleased. Dudley said nothing as he continued glancing in between the three of them.

Harry started up the stairs, then paused as a thought occurred to him. "Also, I have a godfather. I should have gone to live with him, but my parents' will was ignored."

Both his aunt and uncle looked surprised.

"What?" Aunt Petunia was the one to speak.

"If things work out like I hope they will, I might not have to live here. But it will take some time. That is something else we must discuss. Good night."

After Harry had gone upstairs, Dudley asked, "Why does Harry get to have a pet and I don't?"

Getting Dudley a pet of any kind was one thing the boy's parents weren't willing to indulge him on.

0000

In his room, Harry and Ulquiorra temporarily switched – which was quite a shock for the Familiar.

" _That's why the scent of Death covers you! I'm certainly in the unique position of having two Masters."_

Cocking her head, the Familiar spoke,  _"I've never seen one such as you, before, Sir. What are you?"_

"I am Ulquiorra Cifer; Arancar and former Fourth Espada."

" _It is a pleasure meeting you, Sir."_

Ulquiorra simply gave the creature a polite nod.

After getting his school supplies and other books sorted, Harry collapsed onto his bed.  _This day was exhausting._

_/ "But it was also informative. I'm going to start with these wizarding culture books before moving onto the law ones… I suppose I'll also take notes if I find anything of importance." /_

_Thank you, Ulqui._

_/ "…Get some sleep, Potter." /_

After placing his glasses on the nightstand, Harry settled down under the covers, and the winged snake joined him. She coiled herself next to Harry, enjoying his warmth. Plus, she would be his protector if anything were to happen. The boy smiled with contentment. Today had been a good day, in spite of the unfortunate hiccups.

He wondered what his godfather was like. How was he supposed to help the man? Plus, everyone was scared of his snake-speak. What was he going to do about that?

Things were so confusing.

Within the room, Ulquiorra sat on a rather comfy chair that had formerly belonged to Vernon, and he held one of the cultural books in his hand. Their customs were odd, he thought. This particular novel was directed to the Pureblood elite – the rules for them dictated odd things: how early they should arrive at a party and how late they should leave. There was even a section on how to act towards those that were considered less.

It was politics mixed with brown-nosing, witches/wizards must never's, and plenty of condescension towards everything Muggle. The Elite were not to socialize with lowly Muggle-borns, or mudbloods – as the author of the book thought to call them. Ulquiorra's impression was that this man viewed the magical folk as stock cattle, and the Muggle-born would introduce impurities into that stock.

"How ridiculous." Ulquiorra muttered. He seemed to be using that word quite a bit, as of late. From what he gathered the more he read, near-incest was often encouraged to keep the bloodlines pure. Often, cousins were the ones getting married to carry on bloodlines. Apparently, wizards had no concept of genetics.

Ignoring the useless bits of racism and classism, Ulquiorra took notes on the things that seemed most vital for Harry to look over later. The lack of needing any sleep while in this room was really being put to use now that Ulquiorra had something to do – that he would begrudgingly admit to being interested in learning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hagrid is the real MVP. You deserve the world, you over-sized, adorable marshmallow.


	5. In which there is a Series of Unwelcome Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry plays peacekeeper and continues to throw off expectations. Ulquiorra doesn't like hats. There's also a little something extra at the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remember: these chapters aren't necessarily in the right order, and I write them according to my muse's whims.

The rules said that no underage magic was allowed off of school grounds, and that at seventeen was when Harry could legally cast magic.

" _But that's not really fair, is it?"_  Harry muttered bitterly as he fiddled with his wand. He was sitting at his desk, surrounded by various books that contained spells, but he couldn't even practice any of them! It just wasn't fair! He reached out to Eden and scratched a certain spot behind her small horns – which caused her to trill and purr happily.  _"What about the people who've had a head start? What are the rest of us supposed to do?"_

" _Not get caught?"_ Eden suggested.

" _Well,_ yes,  _but – how? I mean, this note pretty much says that it's illegal and if I get caught, I'll be banned from practicing magic, get blacklisted -!"_

 _/ "Dammit Potter, be quiet. I'm tired of your incessant complaining."/_ Ulquiorra's blunt demand cut into Harry's rant.

Harry picked up a small mirror, glared into its reflective surface intently and rolled his eyes. Ulquiorra hated when Harry did that – or when anyone did that motion. It was annoying and made him think of his least favorite Espada.

 _/ "Anyway, I might have a solution."/_ Harry perked up when he heard that.  _/ "You could try practicing basic magic in here. If I'm able to activate a Cero, then it stands to reason that you can use magic. Although…do be cautious. I don't want to risk one of us being irreversibly injured if the room is somehow damaged."/_

Even though Harry had taken a hammer and whacked the stone walls irritating Ulquiorra, not even a crack had formed.

" _You're a genius, Ulqui!"_ Harry declared, and once he gathered up his wands and desired books, he switched out into the room. Working quickly, Harry began practicing the most basic of spells. Outside, Ulquiorra stared at Eden. Eden blinked a few times before she slithered across Harry's desk and settled into Ulquiorra's lap with her belly up and wings splayed.

" _You can rub my belly while we're waiting for Master, Sir."_

Ulquiorra frowned, because he could easily kill this snake, and she was exposing her weak spot to him. She showed a foolish amount of trust; just like her master. They suited each other perfectly. Ulquiorra reached down and began scratching the snake's belly.

This…this wasn't  _so_  bad. It was still a foolish move to willingly expose such a weakness.

Harry practiced a basic spell that lit up the tip of his wand. It glowed brightly for several seconds before it went out. So far, no wizarding police were banging down his door demanding that he turn in his wand.

Over the course of the following days, Harry practiced his spell-work until he felt that he was going to pass out. During this time, their endurance was slowly increasing as well. Perhaps the magic was helping? Harry wasn't sure. But they had a near maximum of seven hours by now.

Ulquiorra kept to the various cultural and law books.

"As I'm reading these, I'm beginning to think you might have to blackmail someone into getting what you want. Your family's name isn't going to be enough."

Blackmail was the least troublesome way, all things considered. Wizards did in fact have lawyers, but they operated differently from Muggle lawyers. They dealt in magical law, and frustratingly, judicial law was held before a panel of people with elected seats, deep pockets, and high positions in magical society and within the Ministry itself.

Even though "Sirius" had used magic to kill several Muggles and another wizard, his crime technically fell under judicial law. It was an abuse of magic to be sure, but it wasn't misuse – as in, he didn't reveal magic to Muggles because all the Muggles who witnessed it were dead.

Ulquiorra wanted to throw the book at the wall.

But… a simple letter sent anonymously containing a simple sentence with keywords could cause powerful people to scramble and panic to keep their secrets. Or simply threatening them with a Cero at pointblank range could work wonders.

 _/ "Let's not go there just yet."/_ Harry quickly discouraged.

Finally Harry had mastered the most basic of spells so far – he even found a few hexes. But Harry was now going to write to Sirius, and make sure that he received it.

At first, Harry was going to simply have Eden take the letter directly to Azkaban, but Ulquiorra was quick to point out that Eden was far too recognizable. Anyone could track the winged snake back to him. One of the books about Hogwarts had mentioned an apothecary, so using an owl from the school would be a better option.

"If I could get one to actually let me  _near_  it…" Harry grumbled, recalling how most animals reacted towards him.

0000

Today was the day that Harry would finally depart to Hogwarts; much to the Dursley's mixed delight. There seemed to be some trepidation on their part for reasons that were only privy to them. But Vernon drove Harry to King's Cross (albeit grumbling under his breath about it the entire trip).

Harry had Eden tucked away in his hoodie; and as long as she was covered or at least out of his sight, he wouldn't hiss. The rest of his luggage was in the room with Ulquiorra. Vernon didn't question Harry where all of his luggage was, making Harry wonder very briefly if Vernon thought that his nephew was simply going to go to boarding school with just the clothes on his back.

The entire car ride was silent, because Harry was thinking, and Vernon wasn't keen on making conversation anyway. He had to get Sirius out without breaking the law, but he potentially had to break the law to get Sirius out. Powerful people didn't like getting their positions threatened. He had no idea where he would even start.

"Thanks for the ride Uncle Vernon," Harry said once they got to King's Cross.

Vernon merely grumbled a response and drove away once Harry had gotten out of the car.

It was crowded, and apparently no-one thought to put a directory or assign a guide to tell new students how to get to Platform 9¾ once they reached platforms 9 and 10.

"Excuse me, sir…" Harry asked a station attendant, "How do I get to Platform 9¾?"

The man looked exasperated. "Every year, the same thing happens! Whatever this long-running prank is, it was never bloody funny the  _first_  time! Now scram!"

Harry contemplated a rude, two-fingered gesture, but thought better of it.

 _/ "There's something over there,"/_ Ulquiorra said when he noticed a particularly odd bit of magical energy congregating around one of the pillars; specifically, between Platforms 9 and 10.  _/ "There's a magical curtain of some sort covering the pillar at Platform 10. Just walk towards it."/_

Harry complied, and that was when the Espada could see what could be best described as looking through a haze-covered tunnel that felt elongated but at the same time, wasn't.

_/ "Keep walking forward."/_

_You just want me to walk_ into _the wall?_

_/ "Just do it, Potter."/_

Contemplating how he would get back at Ulquiorra if he was in fact tricked to walk into a wall, Harry stepped forward. Within moments, Harry was on another platform entirely; surrounded by people of various ages in robes – some were garish, while others wore robes showing that those people were students.

The boy quickly made his way towards an old-fashioned train, and yes, his mouth was agape at the sight. It was amazing!

Eden peeked out from her spot in Harry's hoodie. She observed, watching out for any potential threats.

Nearby, a woman with red hair was directing a brood of children; all with equally red hair. Although her voice was muffled by the crowd surrounding them, her words could still be heard in bits and pieces if Harry listened hard enough.

Since he wasn't lugging around a large trunk, Harry was easily able to wind his way through the crowd and onto the train to find a place to sit.

Harry soon found an empty compartment and settled in. He wasn't alone for long, though, as there was a knock, and a boy his age entered. The first thing that was noticeable about him was his red hair.

"Hello, mind if I sit here?"

"Sure," Harry motioned to the seat opposite him.

"Thanks. My brothers and their friend Lee Jordan are wanting to play a prank with Lee's tarantula…" the boy openly shivered at the mention of the spider. "I'm Ron Weasley by the way."

"Harry Potter."

Wait for it…

"Blimey!" Ron was ecstatic. "Can I see the scar?"

With a quiet sigh, Harry pushed his bangs back, allowing Ron to gape for a moment.

"Wow…I'm sitting with  _the_  Harry Potter!"

"Please, don't do that…" Harry asked, openly cringing. "I was a baby when it happened, and my parents were murdered."

"Oh…" Ron had the decency to blush.

It was a rather absurd idea on Ulquiorra's part, but he spoke up,  _/ "You know…you could also mention your godfather. Children_ do _like to talk."/_

Internally, Harry smirked. This boy was one of the Pure-bloods.

_/ "But I would wait until you know who your allies are and who you can talk to without getting caught." /_

_Good point._

Looking for a change in subject, Ron introduced an ugly rat with a bald patch on its head. There was also a discolored patch of odd, simultaneously bruised and burned looking skin across its right eye all the way down to its right front foot. "This is Scabbers, he's been in my family for years. He's belonged to my brothers and now, me."

 _/ "What the hell…?" /_ Ulquiorra stared at the rat. He wasn't mistaken.

_Ulqui?_

_/ "That rat is a_ Human _." /_

Harry's eyes uneasily went to the rat. It snuffled around on the seat for a moment before crawling back into Ron's robes.

Ulquiorra had also noticed the taint on the rat-Human's Soul. It was a vile and disgusting looking thing. It was a wonder that no-one saw the rat for what he was.

" _It is someone who is bound to an Oath; they promise to hold your deepest, darkest secrets, and will tell no-one. If they break that promise, though…" Snagtooth's grin was ghastly, "For nearly five minutes, it feels as if your insides are on fire, and your flesh is being stripped away. If one breaks an Oath even once, they are forever marked. No amount of Glamour Charms or even Polyjuice potion will hide the blemish of betrayal."_

_/ "Potter, I think that Human is an Oath-breaker. Remember what that Goblin said? I read about this in one of your books as well. The arm they made the Oath on will have blemishes they can't hide, and they're described looking as such." /_

Harry just nodded and smiled uneasily. So many questions popped up in his mind. What was that rat doing here and did Ron know what the rat was? Was he overthinking things when Ron mentioned Scabbers – if that's really what his name was – served his family for so long? Was the rat Ron's bodyguard?

Ulquiorra scoffed.  _/ "Calm down, Potter. You're likely overthinking things. Besides, you don't want to draw suspicion to yourself." /_

Just then, their compartment door opened. A familiar and more than welcome head of white-blond hair was the first thing Harry saw before he jumped up.

"Potter, I-!"

"Malfoy!" Harry practically dragged Malfoy into the cabin with him, leaving the two large boys to bumble after him.

"Malfoy?" Ron questioned with contempt.

"Weasley." Draco said with dignified derision.

"Oh, you know each other already, that's great!" Harry said enthusiastically.

_/ "You know how the action annoys me, but I want you to know that rolling my eyes seems to be the appropriate response here." /_

Harry ignored Ulquiorra.

"Malfoy was the first one I met in Diagon Alley and he told me about Hogwarts and the Houses." Harry continued on, purposely ignoring the electrified tension between Draco and Ron. "He really helped me out then, and was the first friend I made. So it'd be great if you two got along."

"You're friends with  _him?"_ Ron pointed an accusing finger at Draco, who was staring at Harry like something had suddenly started growing out of his ears.

"Well, yeah." Harry nodded.

Ron spluttered. "Bu-but his dad's a Death Eater!"

Whatever that meant, Harry didn't know.

"Your father's a Muggle-loving Blood Traitor!" Draco shot back.

The insults started firing back and forth and both boys looked ready to settle things with their fists.

"Enough!" Harry shouted. He looked very cross as he forced both boys to sit down. "Listen, Ron. Draco was the first friend I made, and I don't mind being friends with you too," even if it was only to keep an eye on the not-rat, "and Draco, none of that insulting stuff about his dad, okay?"

"Our families have been in disagreement for years." Draco said, crossing his arms and glaring.

"The Malfoys are nothing but stuck-up prats." Ron said, glaring just as hard.

"Then why not let the feud end with you two?" Harry suggested very seriously. "I really don't want to pick sides here, and I don't want to lose a friend in favor of another."

Forcing the two boys to be the bigger man seemed to be a challenge that was an uphill battle.

"A truce." Draco said finally. Though it was through gritted teeth and sounded like he was in pain.

"Fine." Ron replied, looking like he was marching to the death chamber.

The two boys who had come in with Draco (and who Harry had to admit a little guiltily he had forgotten about) were called Crabbe and Goyle. They sat a bit awkwardly on one of the seats, taking it up in almost its entirety. It was fortunate for Ron that he was thin as a rail.

"Excuse me, has anyone seen a toad?" a girl with thick, bushy hair stood at the entrance of their cabin. "Neville's lost his."

"No, afraid not." Harry said.

"Oh, dear…" she frowned. "He's fretting about it so badly."

Eden yawned as she slithered out, gaining the attention of everyone.  _"Oh, my… I smell a rat who isn't a rat."_

Harry massaged Eden's shoulders where her wings were, and she hissed happily.

"Oh!" the girl's eyes lit up. "That's one of those Amphiptere and snake crossbreeds! They only choose people they like, so getting one as a Familiar is incredibly rare! You're so lucky! I wanted a cat myself, and got a precious thing called Crookshanks, though he's rather old. Nobody else wanted him, and my mum just adores him."

The boys all blinked up at her.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm Hermione Granger."

Harry tucked Eden away before introducing himself.

"Harry Potter? Oh! I've read about you in the books and how you defeated You Know Who! It's a wonder how you survived the Killing Curse. Has anyone ever told you? It would be interesting to study, although I don't think anyone would want to experiment by having a nasty curse thrown at them. I don't think animals should have to be subject to it either if people aren't willing to volunteer." Hermione sighed. "Well, I suppose I should go find Neville's toad. It was lovely to meet all of you. Goodbye."

After Hermione left, Ron looked thoughtful. "She really needs to learn to take a breath."

"I haven't met a mud… Muggle-born who was so well informed on what Amphiptere are this early in the term." Draco admitted.

Sometime later, there was another knock on the door. A pleasantly plump woman smiled at them. "Anything from the trolley, dears?"

"I've already got something…" Ron held up a couple of roast-beef sandwiches.

"We'll take the lot." Harry said, pulling several galleons out of his pocket.

Not letting someone else pay for him out of pride and how he was raised, Draco contributed several galleons as well.

When he was told that Bertie Bott's every flavor beans literally meant  _every_  flavor, Harry didn't believe it. The first one tasted like strawberry, and the one after that was vanilla. Surely, the others were trying to mess with him. Harry picked another red one, and popped it into his mouth. Within seconds, Harry was crying; his nose was running, and his mouth was on fire. Thankfully, they had been provided with water and small bottles of milk.

Ron guffawed and Draco smirked at his plight, and Harry responded through his coughing and tears with a two-fingered hand motion.

In Ulquiorra's opinion, having something that literally consisted of every conceivable flavor was both absurd and disgusting. In Harry's opinion, Ulquiorra didn't know how to have fun. So Harry tucked away a package of the beans just for Ulquiorra.

Eventually, Harry had to go to the toilet so he could switch with Ulquiorra, change into his robes, and then switch back. He did receive odd looks from both Ron and Draco, because they knew that he had left  _not_  holding robes.

That was when Draco glanced around their compartment, likely looking for where Harry could have been keeping his luggage that wasn't packed away in the luggage car. "Where were you keeping those?"

Harry merely smiled. "It's a secret."

0000

Harry followed after the first-years while the other years went in a different direction towards horseless carriages. Harry wasn't looking in that direction long enough, but Ulquiorra was fairly certain the carriages weren't horseless and that there had been something pulling them. The students were ushered towards a dock where Hagrid was standing calling out,

"Firs' years! Over here! Firs' years!"

"Hagrid!" Harry greeted with a wide grin.

Hagrid smiled at him, and he looked surprised when Eden slipped out of Harry's robes and flew up to give Hagrid an affectionate brush of her wings before slithering back to her place on Harry's shoulders. A few people stared at the display, and the whispers started about the kid with the rare, winged snake.

The view of the castle was amazing, although not that impressive to Ulquiorra. His previous home in Los Naches had been far bigger. He chose to not say anything and simply observe.

0000

Upon exiting the boats, the Hagrid guided the students over to a large door where he knocked three times; each resonating with a loud boom. The students whispered nervously about having to fight trolls or even each other in order to determine their House placement. As the students whispered rumors amongst themselves, it was slowly becoming an eerie game of Telephone. Harry stifled a smile at the wild imaginations of his fellow classmates.

A stern-looking woman answered the door a few minutes later.

"Good evening, everyone," she greeted. "I'm Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, Professor of Transfiguration and head of Gryffindor House. Follow me, please."

The students followed after her through twisting hallways that had suits of armor and colorful paintings that moved called out to the students. Soon enough, the Professor stopped them outside a set of large doors, and had them wait while she went inside for something.

While they were waiting, several ghosts floated through the walls, bickering with one another while also greeting the students. There was cackling followed by screams, and one of the ghosts called out, "Peeves!"

"Peeves is just having a bit o' fun!"

A few students were covered with raw eggs, and others were covered in flower. Peeves suddenly flew right next to Harry and looked intent of dumping something on him. Another ghost was close behind Peeves, admonishing him.

"I say, Peeves! Enough of this nonsense!"

Instead of responding, Peeves just stared at Harry, and Harry stared right back. Suddenly, Peeves' eyes widened, and he screeched, backing away and pointing at Harry. "Unnatural thing! That thing is unnatural! Death covers him!"

Peeves dropped everything, causing more students to be covered in eggs, flour, and even bits of discarded food that the house elves hadn't seen fit to use in that evening's meal.

The ghost that had been following after Peeves slowly looked at the retreating form before turning his attention back onto Harry.

"Oh…oh, my…" the man looked shaken, and his head fell off, but only enough that it was connected by a thin layer of skin. The man quickly replaced his head and floated over to where the other ghosts were. Harry tried to ignore the way all the ghosts were looking at him and whispering. Because of how the ghosts were acting, the students also began whispering and looking curiously at Harry.

A thankful interruption came in the form of Professor McGonagall. She "tsk'd" at the mess Peeves had made, and a few quick charms had everything and everyone clean again. The students made a few lines and marched through the large dining hall that had an enchanted ceiling that showed the weather outside. Floating candles moved about the room, high about the hall.

It was…oddly peaceful, Ulquiorra thought to himself.

There was a raggedy hat on a stool near the front, and after a song, Professor McGonagall began calling out names in alphabetical order.

_/ "I wouldn't be surprised if there was ever an outbreak of lice with how ratty that thing looks. /_

Harry snorted.  _Shush it, you._

"Potter, Harry!"

A wave of whispers shot through the crowd, and Harry quickly made his way towards the stool. He glanced up somewhat nervously to the Professor's table, unwittingly making eye contact with the old wizard seated at the head of the table. Inside of the room, Ulquiorra was observing the events with apathetic boredom.

That was, until something white like smoke began to flow through the screen. It slowly started to form a vaguely humanoid shape, starting from the bottom up. Someone was trying to invade the boy's mind! Ulquiorra acted quickly, thrusting his hand at the invader. There was a loud snapping and cracking sound, and the shape quickly retreated.

At the sound of a loud noise only he could hear, Harry startled and stumbled somewhat. Over at the Professors' table, Dumbledore jolted in his seat. He raised a hand to his forehead to massage it.

"Sorry…" Harry mumbled, straightening himself up.

 _Ulquiorra, what_ was _that?_

_/ "That old bastard… he was trying to invade your mind!" /_

_What?_

_/ "Whatever you do, don't look him in the eye."/_

Harry gulped, and it appeared that McGonagall thought that his trepidation was due to nerves.

"It's quite alright, Mr. Potter. The Sorting Hat isn't known to bite."

He didn't respond, but just stared at the floor and sat down on the stool.

When Professor McGonagall put the hat on Harry's head, a different voice filled his mind.

" **Well, well… what have we here? Two different minds, this is certainly a first."**

Ulquiorra stared at the thing standing in front of him. Unlike the one who had tried to sneak in, this one simply appeared. But it shifted between appearances; looking and sounding like two different females, and then shifting to two different males.

At times, aspects of the voices were more prominent, as if the owner of that voice was looking for something.

_Ulquiorra is my friend_

" **Yes, I can see that. I'm the Sorting Hat, Mr. Ulquiorra. It's nice to meet one such as yourself."**

Ulquiorra merely inclined his head at the specter.

" **There is a lot of potential here… you aren't very studious; it seems you leave that to your friend here, heh, heh,"**

Harry unintentionally flinched and inclined his head guiltily at being caught.

" **Don't worry, Mr. Potter, I don't go around revealing secrets. It's an aspect of my enchantment. Anyway… oh, there is some loyalty here as well, but it's only for the other person here… I'd probably put you in Gryffindor without much hesitation, except they tend to have a generous amount of foolhardiness when it comes to their courage.** There was amusement in the Hat's voice as it asked,  **"You've got Ulquiorra here to hold you back, am I right?"**

_/ "It wouldn't do if Potter were injured. I wouldn't want to be inconvenienced or killed simply because the child couldn't keep himself out of trouble." /_

" **Of course."**

Ulquiorra didn't like the tone the Hat had used; it was almost as if the Hat were making fun of him. Or acted as if it knew something he didn't. It was aggravating.

" **I can see you've got a healthy desire to prove yourself. You don't like standing out, but you don't want to disappear either. So, I'll leave it to you, Harry Potter. Gryffindor, or Slytherin?"**

Harry thought for a moment, weighing the pros and cons. Finally, he made his choice.

" _ **Slytherin!"**_

There was certainly a shock that went through the crowd. People looked awed or even scared. Most, looked as if they genuinely didn't know how to respond. The Slytherins on the other hand, were whooping and cheering. Harry seated himself next to Draco.

"A hat-stall, that's amazing!" a girl he learned was called Daphne Greengrass said.

"I almost thought you weren't going to come to Slytherin." Draco admitted.

Harry shrugged. "The Hat gave me a choice between here and Gryffindor, and it seemed that it was best to come here."

An older boy approved. "Didn't want to be among Blood-traitors and mud-bloods? Wise choice."

"No, actually." Harry let himself smile in a way that he knew would creep most people out. While his fellow Slytherins were surprised at the expression, they weren't necessarily put out by it. "There's something I want, and it seems this is the only place I can get it."

Because honestly, from what snippets he had learned from Draco – the Slytherins had all the connections that mattered. If his godfather was accused of being a Death Eater, why not get close to the people who were said to be as such? All he had to do was find out who mattered, and he and Ulquiorra could only learn so much from books. He could be the kid who asked for help from those who knew what they were doing. Surely, they'd feel sorry for the kid who grew up with Muggles and didn't know any better. Him wanting to do Slytherin House proud would be more than enough motivation. Harry would milk his irritating Boy Who Lived status for all it was worth.

0000

_**A little something extra, to go along with the theme of the chapter**_

Hermione Granger was smart; maybe a little too smart for her own good. It wasn't her fault that she caught onto things far quicker than her classmates. Certainly, she thought, if someone was doing something wrong and not getting the desired results than shouldn't someone who knew what they were doing correct them? You'd think that people would be grateful for the help – but…perhaps she had been a little overbearing.

So she had helpfully tried to correct Ronald Weasley, but after class she had overheard him complaining about her to his friends. A swell of hurt emotions hit her. This was supposed to be her new start. Except…nothing had changed. She would always be the outcast.

So, Hermione found herself in the girls' toilet, crying. She didn't care about the feast. She exited the stall and made her way to the sink when a pungent odor enveloped her and Hermione teared up again; not because of her emotions, but because of how horrid the smell was.

That was when she saw it: a troll. She had read about how awful they smelled, but she had thought that the book was exaggerating. Instead, the description was a severe understatement. Then, the creature raised its club, and Hermione dove to the side, just barely avoiding the strike.

Stalls and the toilets in them were smashed to bits, enforcing the idea in Hermione's mind that she did not want to get hit by that club. She desperately tried moving again towards the door, but for a creature so large and clumsy, it was fast. The troll raised its club again, and brought it down, missing Hermione by inches. Hermione wondered if she could feint one way and go the other.

It was the only plan she had, and she went for it.

Except, she tripped on a stray piece of toilet and crashed down to the floor. It was probably the only time in her short life that she regretted reading books and not participating in more sports. The club came down towards her, and Hermione closed her eyes tight, crying.

The blow never came.

Hermione dared to open her eyes, and when she did, there was an unexpected sight: a man wearing some sort of white clothing stood in front of her, one hand easily kept the troll's club at bay. In fact, it was the troll that was struggling to pull its club away from the man, who didn't even look like he was struggling to hold the weapon back.

Slowly, he turned to look back at her whilst still holding onto the club. He had black hair with some sort of horn on one side of his head, and intense green eyes. Odd tear-marks were on his face.

"Are you injured, girl?"

It took a moment for Hermione to register the question. "…What?"

Mild annoyance was in his tone. "I asked if you were injured."

"Just-just scrapes."

"If you are able to walk without assistance, then hurry up and do so."

Hermione nodded, and ran out of the bathroom.

Once she was gone, Ulquiorra casually pointed at the troll.  _"Cero."_

0000

Trolls smelled bad in general. Trolls' insides smelled even  _worse_. Trolls' insides that were a mix of cooked and raw was practically unbearable. The Professors had to put bubble-head charms on alleviate the rancid smell that somewhat provided relief.

The smell was so bad, that Quirrell fainted for real.

The Professors all gaped at the scene of destruction before them. Wrecked stalls, toilets, and sinks. Along with the troll that had its torso shot out in almost its entirety.

"What…what in Merlin's name could have done  _this?"_  McGonagall asked in awe.

"The paintings certainly don't know anything, I've asked…" Sprout said, looking a little green.

"At least some of these parts can be salvaged for use in potions." Snape commented dryly.

Hermione Granger had been lucky to escape, but something or someone had helped her. She was so shaken up, that Madam Pomphrey had taken her up immediately to the Hospital Wing before the poor girl could be questioned further.

After the troll's body had been taken care of and things in the restroom were repaired, Quirrell couldn't help but wonder who had been strong enough to do  _that_  to a troll, when their hides were so impervious to magic. Did he have anything to worry about?

 _:"We will continue as planned, Quirrell.":_ the voice on the back of his mind whispered.

"Yes, Master."

0000

Somewhere in the library, Hermione doodled in her notebook – the Muggle one her parents had gifted her (just in case) and she drew what she could remember from that Halloween night. A heroic knight with green eyes and a stoic disposition. She blushed a little as she drew his black hair waving in the wind…

"Oh, hey, Hermione!"

Hermione 'eeped' and quickly closed her notebook. She looked up at Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. Harry grinned at her, and Draco looked unsure. She had been told to stay away from the "dirty" Slytherins, but even after the troll and the obligatory "are you alright" from her Gryffindor classmates, she was back to being ignored again.

"Are you alright after that troll?" Harry sat down at her table like it was nothing.

Draco seemed to hesitate, but he sat down too, mostly because Harry grabbed his arm and made him.

"Yes, I am, thank you."

"Are you studying for the history essay?" Harry pulled out all of the necessary supplies. "I dozed off in that class…"

"Everyone dozes off." Draco snorted. "People only like it because they get to sleep."

"But that's so irresponsible!" Hermione started, looking aghast. "How can  _anyone_  find it boring?"

"How can  _you_  find it interesting?" Draco shot back with a hiss, mostly because the librarian was glaring in their direction from one of the aisles, looking very much like a suspicious cat.

Hermione began talking excitedly about the history books she had learned from, and Harry added that he had read those books as well. Draco added that a few of the books she had spoken so highly of weren't that good.

Their little debate was interrupted when a sheepish Ron approached. He sent a halfhearted glare at Draco, but instead of arguing with him, he turned his attention onto Hermione.

"I just wanted to… I shouldn't have said…that's why you were in the girls' toilets on Halloween." Ron blushed furiously as he scratched his head. "So, um… yeah. S-sorry."

Hermione smiled at him.

"We're having a discussion about Professor Binns' class." Harry said. "Join us?"

Slowly, Ron sat down, but neither his suspicion nor his glare towards the Slytherins lessened. "I fell asleep."

"Did  _all_ of you sleep?" Hermione was aghast.

"Not really, I just wrote down the important bits." Draco stubbornly crossed his arms.

"I was half-asleep but I got  _some_  notes down…" Harry shuffled nervously. His handwriting was strange. Some of his notes looked scribbled; while others looked written with precision.

Hermione put her notes out on the table, which Ron was quick to look over. "I suppose we can work from these."

"If they even retire Binns, you should give being a history professor a shot." Harry smirked at her.

"I will admit that you know more than most Pure-Bloods for a mud-ggle-born, even though that knowledge is a bit flawed and outdated." Draco coughed and glared at Ron, who was glaring at him for almost using  _that_  word. Hermione cocked an eyebrow at the sort-or compliment. Even so, a Muggle-born knowing more than a Pureblood was an insult to Purebloods. The fact he was sitting here with a mud-blood and a blood-traitor was grounds for the scandalous. "My father  _won't_  hear of this, understood, Weasley? Potter?"

"As if I'd willingly talk to your dad."

"I won't breathe a word of it to anyone."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone asked me if this fic was crack, and I honestly said it wasn't, but then someone else said it was crack. So… unintentional crack is unintentional. Any OOC-ness can be attributed to the presence of one Arancar and the butterfly effect of influences he has on one character. If this does turn into a crack fic at times, my apologies.
> 
> Hermione has "met" Ulquiorra and *blush* Lockhart doesn't stand a chance!
> 
> How did Harry/Ulquiorra happen by the bathrooms? I'm not going to cover that in any future chapters, so here's what happened: Harry enjoyed a good portion of the feast with his Slytherin buddies, and he ended up sneaking food into his robes for later. I mean, if you have access to a place where you can store food and it doesn't spoil, why not abuse the heck out of it? He then snuck to the bathrooms so that he could store away his Halloween stash in the mind-room, when Ulquiorra heard the troll and decided to investigate. After killing the troll and craftily avoiding the eyesight of all the paintings; it was a quick trip to the boys' bathrooms to switch back and act all confused about the Professors standing outside the girls' bathroom.
> 
> Draco: Harry's already working his influence on him, and I definitely want to dedicate a few chapters to their developing friendship, along with his friendship with Ron.
> 
> As for Dumbledore: he's not evil here, he just operates in more of a gray area. He does have a habit of reading the minds of the students who garner his interest, and Harry was one of them. Unfortunately, he's earned the suspicion of Ulquiorra and a very nasty headache to boot.
> 
> Next time: There will be a chapter where things happen. A potions class, flying lessons, a magic mirror, and friendship!


	6. In Which the Mirror Shows the heart’s true Desire, but you might not like what you see

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some Professors aren't happy about House placements, but can't really do anything about it. Things slowly come under a fairly mundane routine; and Ron, Draco, and Ulquiorra all have self-discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter: Parasite!Voldemort appears! Why didn't it/he show up sooner? Because Harry wasn't paying any attention to Quirrell because there was a talking hat and an awesome ceiling. Also, some old guy tried to read his mind.
> 
> Thank you so much for the comments! This chapter is longer than usual, so yay to long chapters.

The students of course were curious about why the Third-Floor Corridor was closed, and what the "most painful death" consisted of. They all talked about it for a few minutes of course, pointing out its oddity.

A part of Harry was certainly curious, even though he found the comment odd. If it was so dangerous, why even mention it? Why not cordon off that section of the school? There were magical barriers, right?

It was all the more reason Ulquiorra didn't trust Dumbledore. To him, it sounded like a message concealed within the announcements. He was glad that Harry was questioning it, and that he didn't have to point out the obvious oddities.

"The old man's certainly been losing it more and more over the years…" an older girl muttered. "Seriously, I'm surprised he doesn't already have a room at St. Mungo's."

Finally, when the announcements were over, the food appeared. Harry's jaw dropped, causing a few of his Housemates to laugh at him.

"I've never seen this much…!"

Plans of how he could start sneaking the food into the mind room occupied Harry's thoughts.

0000

Albus Dumbledore sat in his office, thoughtfully staring at his tea. A finger tapped against the cup. He thought back to the night before, when he had tried to scan Harry Potter's mind. It was a bad habit, he would admit. But he never delved too deep – just went after the surface thoughts.

He had encountered mental barriers before, and never pressed them unless he truly had to. But he had never encountered a mental barrier in someone so young and untrained; or a mental barrier that  _fought back_  and  _hurt_. Outwardly, Dumbledore was fine. Physically, somewhat fine. But whatever had hit him had generously given him a strain on his own mental wards and a severe headache that felt as if a bludger was fighting to escape his skull.

His somewhat subdued countenance was noticeable enough that a few of the teachers asked him if he was sick, because the usual subtle sparkle around his eyes was gone. When Dumbledore tried to use Legilimency again even hours later, it felt like his eyes were being pulled out of the back of his skull.

It was curiouser and curiouser the more Dumbledore thought about it. Just who had taught the boy? Maybe he could pull Harry aside for a casual chat?

There was also the fact that James and Lily's son was in Slytherin, surely Dumbledore thought amusedly, he would have been a Gryffindor through and through. They would jokingly be horrified, but proud none-the-less. Severus wasn't happy about James' son being in his House. He had complained about at length and seemed to be convinced that some sort of cruel irony was out to get him.

Minerva was annoyed that Harry hadn't become one of her Lions, and wouldn't let Severus complain about the boy or his father.

0000

At breakfast that morning, Harry grabbed Draco's arm and dragged him over to the Gryffindor table. Crabbe and Goyle looked on and did nothing, the useless brutes.

"Potter, what are you doing?" Draco demanded, futilely trying to escape.

"We're sitting with Ron." Harry answered affirmably.

"WHAT?! Why?!"

"We're friends. Is there a rule against it?"

"Only an unspoken one! Gryffindor and Slytherin  _don't_  get along!"

"Well, Ron's my friend too. I don't want to have to divide my time just because we're in different Houses."

The two Slytherins received curious stares and nasty glares as they sat down next to Ron. Ron looked unsure, but he greeted Harry pleasantly enough.

Harry easily ignored all of this and started talking to Ron as if it was nothing. Ron glared at Draco, and Draco glared back.

"All of us are going to get along, aren't we? Ron? Draco?"

Draco buttered his toast with unnecessary fierceness. "Yes."

Ron drank his pumpkin juice with as if he were taking bitter-tasting medicine. "Fine."

"Great!" Harry said with a smile as he started introducing himself to the rest of the Weasley hoard and the surrounding Gryffindors.

"What's Gryffindor Tower like?" Harry asked.

"Why do you want to know?" a Gryffindor boy asked suspiciously.

"It's all part of my world domination plans." Harry said with a smirk. "Taking over a school seems like a good start. Everyone knows the big bad guy needs his castle." Harry then laughed evilly, although it was the worse evil-sounding laugh Draco had ever heard. "Because Ron and Draco are my friends, they'll be top commanders in my army."

"Don't involve me in your plans!" Ron protested.

"I'm a Malfoy; I don't work  _for_  people." Draco said with dignity.

"Come on!" Harry disputed. "I'll have insurance and dental for everyone who works for me!"

"What's 'dental'?" Ron asked.

Hermione gasped in horror.

"Oh…I suppose that explains the teeth." Harry said. "Good thing I'm planning to take over then."

 _/ "This is absurd." /_ Ulquiorra said, and  _no_ , he  _wasn't_  complaining.

0000

It was the first potions class for the Slytherin and Gryffindor First-Years, and Snape wasn't exactly looking forward to it. He knew whose son would be there. Snape stood outside the classroom door to compose himself, while he could somewhat hear the sounds of students talking. Snape hadn't done the usual meet-and-greet the night before, leaving it to the Prefects to tell the First-Years what was expected of them. There were two Muggle-borns in his House this year, and it was a rule of sorts; no-one in Slytherin would call them "Mud-bloods" because after all, Slytherin stuck together. But every other House was fair game. Of course, if anyone was caught using the word, they were to be docked points and given detention.

After taking a deep breath, Snape entered his classroom with flare, slamming open the door and causing many of his students to jolt. Then began his annual speech for every First-Year class who were entering into his realm for the first time.

"There will be no foolish wand-waving in this class…" he glowered over his students. The Gryffindor students either stared at him in fear or loathing – or ducked their heads. All of his Slytherins looked up at him – even the one with Lily's eyes.

He got near the end of his speech. "I can teach you how to bewitch the mind, and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even how to stopper death."

Snape turned his attention onto Potter's son – who was sitting next to his godson.

"Mr. Potter!"

The boy didn't even jolt, while a few of those in the class did. How…admirable. And irksome. Snape's voice was calm once again as he continued, "Our new celebrity... Tell me: what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

A Gryffindor girl with bushy hair shot her hand up into the air.

Potter tapped his chin for a moment before turning green eyes back on him. "Um…isn't it a type of beauty potion?"

"…5 points. Where would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar?"

Again, the hand of the Gryffindor girl shot up.

"…In the stomach of a goat, if I remember correctly."

"Oh? Do you know what it's used for?"

"…Treating poisons."

"Another 5 points." Snape reluctantly added. The boy was… frustrating. "Finally, what is the difference between monkshood and wolfs bane?"

Once again, the girl's hand shot into the air, looking desperate to be called upon.

Potter frowned, staring off into the air as if he were listening to something only he could hear. "…Those are the names for the same plant, I believe. Um…doesn't it also go by the name of aconite…?"

"That's another 5 points, Mr. Potter." Snape glared out at his class. "For once, it looks like  _someone_  actually bothered to study. Why aren't any of you writing this down?"

The students quickly began writing stuff down – but Potter didn't bother, he seemed to stare at Snape as if waiting for something. Snape didn't really know what to think of the boy. He seemed to be unsure of himself but confident at the same time. It was contradictory. He could see aspects of James Potter in so many ways, yet there were ways that the boy  _wasn't_  like his father, Snape was loath to admit.

"Do exactly as the instructions say," Snape ordered as he levitated the chalk to write on the blackboard. "Surely you can manage that. Be quick about it."

There was a hustle-and-bustle as the students moved to get their things.

An uneasy feeling surrounded Snape about the boy. He seemed to focus onto the Potions Professor, as if looking for something. The way the boy observed was almost unnatural; and the way Potter didn't even react when others did as he called on the boy was even more disconcerting. Then, he noticed how the boy's eyes briefly went to his left arm before quickly focusing on the potion he and Draco were brewing together.

Or maybe… maybe Snape had just imagined it. He really wished the boy had ended up in Gryffindor like his father. He couldn't really single out someone from his own House.

0000

Professor Quirrell's class was…interesting. That was putting it politely. Fifth and Seventh Year students were lamenting the fact that he was their Dark Arts Professor, and were talking about getting a tutor. Worries about OWLs and NEWTs were often spoken of in hushed voices in the halls between classes and loudly voiced in the common rooms. What could they possibly learn from a man who jumped at his own shadow?

Several First-Years took their seats in Professor Quirrell's class, and as Harry settled in, his head started to hurt; or more specifically, his scar. The throbbing sensation became worse when Quirrell closed the distance between them as he paced around his classroom.

Within the room, Ulquiorra noticed  _something_  on the back of Quirrell's head. It was vile, whatever it was. Ulquiorra had honestly never seen such an incomplete soul before, and it was mutilated. Something sickly green began squirming into the room through a crack in the wall, while outside, Harry was grunting in pain and massaging his scar. The green thing began wriggling around on the floor and Ulquiorra quickly grabbed it and ignored the way it squirmed in his hand. It was the same as the thing on the back of the Professor's head, but more complete.

Ulquiorra frowned. He had seen souls divide themselves before, but this… this was something else. It was wholly unnatural. It was a butchering of a soul with a side of something particularly malicious. He had never seen something like  _this_  before.

Although he didn't need to, a side of morbid curiosity hit Ulquiorra and he ate the incomplete soul. He felt something in him change, but it was ever so slight that Ulquiorra thought that he imagined it. It tasted well… not good, but not bad, either.

The moment Ulquiorra ate the soul piece, the pain in Harry's scar stopped and he sighed in relief. There was still some residual throbbing, but it wasn't half as bad as before.

_What was that?_

_/ "I'm not really sure. But there's a piece of a soul on the back of your Professor's head. Do_ not _look at him! Anyway, there was a secondary piece in here, too… I believe it activated upon sensing the presence of the other one on the back of his head. It's gone now. Whatever it is, I don't really know how to explain the wrongness of it."/_

' _Wrongness'?_

 _/ "I've seen souls divided before. It's incredibly difficult but not impossible. This one though, has a particular unnatural maliciousness to it. If I were you, I wouldn't be alone with that man at any time._ Don't  _give him a reason."/_

Ulquiorra's voice was both harsh and serious. Harry didn't like the tone at all.

_Okay._

0000

With Quirrell and Voldemort, the Dark Lord had felt something was off. It was like a tight pinch against his imaginary skin, pulling at him before stopping. Voldemort assumed that it was simply his connection to the boy; since he was his natural enemy. He thought nothing more of the odd sensation, and simply waited for his host to do his job.

Harry watched how Quirrell stumbled through everything – like  _every little thing._  His words, the way he walked, when he picked things up, it went on and on. A number of the students were chuckling behind their books and sleeves.

_/ "He's a terrible actor."/_

_You could put the Benny Hill theme over him and it'd fit!_ Harry disguised his laugh as a coughing fit.

Ulquiorra sighed.  _/ "You really should take this seriously, Potter. I told you that he's pretending to be incompetent. I'm honestly surprised that no-one else is seeing through that charade."/_

As they left, Draco muttered, "Seriously, how low can their standards get? My father's right about the school going downhill. The Professor is a joke!"

"He probably could have gotten work as an entertainer," Harry agreed.

" _It was really dis-turban how his wand wouldn't even light up. That's one of the most basic of spells! It's sad that all of the students managed to do it when the teacher couldn't."_ Eden hissed and laughed.

Ulquiorra scowled and sighed. Smacking his forehead sounded like an appealing option right then.

Harry snorted and laughed, and when Draco raised a curious brow, Harry repeated what Eden had said.

Draco scowled and sighed. "Don't make me hex you, Potter."

_/ "…I'd let him."/_

It was nice that his friends agreed on something, although one of them wasn't aware of it. Harry just kind of wished that it wasn't at his expense. But he laughed at the flat tone in Ulquiorra's voice and Draco's annoyed scowl.

Eden was pleased that she had been able to make her master laugh.

00000

Ron was the sixth child in his family, and the youngest son. He was hoping to make his place in the world, though that would be easier said than done. It felt like his brothers had already accomplished so much, and he was just picking up the remaining pieces they had left behind.

When he met Harry Potter, he was excited about making friends with him, because that would be something his brothers hadn't done! But then Harry said that he was friends with Malfoy; and not only that, but Harry had ended up in Slytherin! Things couldn't have gone more wrong.

But Harry insisted on associating with him, and even Malfoy. Ron did sort of wish that if Harry wanted to be friends with him; he wouldn't insist on bringing Malfoy along when the other boy clearly didn't want to be there. There was always a barb or two Ron and Malfoy reserved for each other.

Ron was walking along by himself when someone called out to him.

"Ron!" Harry was dragging Malfoy along with him. "Ron, so glad I found you."

Harry didn't seem to notice or even care about the exasperated look the Malfoy was giving him. Malfoy and Ron glared at each other.

"So, I ended up talking with one of the Hufflepuffs," Harry was saying, "and she could do this awesome hair-changing trick because she was a…animor…" Harry paused as if listening to something. It was almost awkward before Harry continued with, "Metamorphmagus. Anyway, she told me about the kitchens where the food's prepared." Harry smirked. "Wanna go see it?"

"…I don't know…" Ron said hesitantly. A few of his Housemates didn't like that he was talking to Slytherins – even if one of those Slytherins  _was_  Harry Potter. There were some nasty rumors about him going around.

' _He's not who we thought he was,' 'he associates with Malfoy, and we all know who that stuck-up prat's father really is'_ and  _'he's the second Dark Lord for sure'._

"I'm willing to be friends, Ron." Harry said very seriously. "I don't mind rivalries, but divisions between our Houses are why people view them negatively." Harry stuck out a hand. "So. Friends?"

"Does he have to be there?" Ron indicated Malfoy.

Malfoy scowled at Ron. "You know, I was going to complain the entire time, but knowing my presence will make you miserable Weasley means I'll be joining this little…" Malfoy paused dramatically as he searched for the right words, "soiree. Foolish as I think it is."

"…Fine." Ron muttered in some resignation.

He followed after Harry and shuffled his feet a bit as they walked.

The other Gryffindors who knew his family often asked more about what his brothers were doing and asked him to talk to Fred and George for favors in pranking other people. He was their little brother; no way they'd turn him down! That had been the reasoning.

Although the Slytherins weren't his favorite people, no-one in his family was friends with a Slytherin. All the Snakes were evil after all, everyone knew that. But Harry had been kind. Harry had bought him snacks and shared without a second thought.

It was bold and brash to be a Lion among Snakes.

At the thought of what his family would think, Ron had to wonder: was this even a good idea?

0000

The trick to entering the kitchens was through a painting where the key was to tickle a pear. Inside, numerous house elves were working quickly for that evening's meal. The house elves suddenly turned and all stared at them; or rather, they all stared at Harry. Their already large eyes got impossibly bigger.

"Oh, gracious!"

"Why does sir have that…that…who is this one?"

"I'm Harry Potter," Harry introduced himself, along with Ron and Draco and he gave a quick bow.

"Who be the fourth, though, Mr. Potter, sir?" one of the house elves asked.

"Fourth?" Ron questioned. "There's only three of us."

He had heard that house elves could be both equally bright and dull.

"But the fourth is lingers with Harry Potter, sir."

Harry grinned, "Oh, you must mean Eden!"

Harry introduced his winged-snake, and Ron had to gawk at her. She was certainly beautiful. A bit of jealously hovered over him, because all he had was Scabbers. Suddenly, Harry started hissing, but he cleared his throat. "Sssssorry about…that… I alm  _(hiss, hiss)_ almost have thisss under control…"

"You…you can speak Parsletongue?!" Malfoy was equally shocked, but he didn't have the same sort of fear that Ron had.

Ron was shaking, but Harry pulled him along and sat him down. Ron wondered if he would regret not being friends with Harry Potter; who was both Slytherin  _and_  Parsle mouth. Harry would probably take out a Snake's revenge on him…

The house elves were confused, because the snake was certainly not who they were asking about. They could see an image of sorts of a man standing over Harry Potter. He was hazy like smoke yet his presence felt as if he was standing on the other side of a doorway that was closed, but not locked.

He had an unnatural feeling surrounding him; he was a threat, but it seemed that he wouldn't be a threat to them as long as they didn't do anything to warrant it.

The boys happily ate, and Harry made sure to praise the house elves for their excellent work and thanked them. All the elves began crying, because Harry Potter was far too kind! The boys left about an hour later, because they had homework to complete.

00000

Madam Hooch was a tall woman with short hair and yellow eyes; reminding Harry of a hawk. She stood in the center of numerous First-Years from all four Houses giving instructions much like a drill sergeant. She instructed the class to stand by their brooms and hold out their hands, while yelling, "Up!"

Thus commenced numerous students yelling the command, with many not being successful on their first try.

"Say it like you mean it," Madam Hooch said as she paced through the rows of various students. "What's required is a strong voice and a force of will."

Harry was among the few to successfully call his broom up on the first try, followed by Draco. Ron kept shouting at his broom in ever increasing volume.

"Merlin, Weasley, you think you could be a bit louder?" Draco said with a smirk. "Madam Hooch said to speak to it, not scream at it."

"Shove it, Malfoy!" Ron shot back bitterly. He glared at the broom as if it had offended him. "Bloody broom!" Ron gave the broom a kick. "UP!"

The broom shot up – right into Ron's face. Harry at least had the decency to cover his smile; while Draco openly laughed. Ron's ears were red with his embarrassment and he gave Harry and Draco a two-fingered gesture when Madam Hooch's back was turned.

"Socializing with Slytherins? I can't believe a Weasley would ever turn their backs on their fellow Lions."

Ron turned towards a Gryffindor boy and scowled at him. "Shut up, Finnigan."

"If anyone were to complain it should be  _us_ …" a Slytherin boy hissed at them.

"Who I decide to socialize with is none of your concern, Zabini," Draco said with all the authority he could muster – which honestly was impressive with his stature.

_/ "Do we really have to get involved with House rivalries? I really don't want to have such childish debates." /_

They were interrupted when Madam Hooch started calling for a Gryffindor boy to come down on his broom. Unfortunately, Neville Longbottom had gotten stuck with a rather fickle broom. He ended up crashing into the castle wall; fell several feet before getting his robes caught by a torch; where he then proceeded to fall several more feet onto the ground.

If that torch hadn't been there, things would have been far worse.

Madam Hooch quickly helped Neville help. He had a broken arm and several scrapes. He limped away with the Professor who called over her shoulder that all of them needed to behave and to " _stay on the ground!"_

If only things could have been that easy…

"Hey, what's this?" Zabini asked as he stooped to pick up something shiny from the ground. "Ha, that fool dropped his Rememberall!"

"Give it here, Zabini!" Ron ordered, holding out his hand.

"Hmm… I don't think I will."

"Enough, Zabini."

Everyone's eyes went to Malfoy, who suddenly looked unsure with all the attention. But he stepped forward and continued, "Just give Weasley the stupid ball. Longbottom's not here, and it's not like he's going to notice the thing missing until someone mentions it to him."

"Socializing with Lions. Defending Lions…" Zabini had a disapproving scowl. "Are you a Blood-Traitor now, Malfoy?"

"NO!" Malfoy got into Zabini's face. "I'm  _saying_  that you're wasting time with Longbottom!"

"Lion-loving Blood-traitor." Zabini gave Malfoy's shoulder a shove before mounting his broom and floating up above the students.

"I  _am not_  allying myself with Gryffindor!" Draco argued heatedly, only to be scoffed at by Zabini.

"Madam Hooch said to stay on the ground!" Hermione called up aghast.

"Shut up, mudblood!" one Slytherin spat out.

"Don't talk to her like that!" another Gryffindor shouted.

"I'll talk to mudbloods however I want!"

A Gryffindor girl looked ready to smack the Slytherin across the mouth.

Ulquiorra felt that there really should be a second Professor here – especially when a good number of the unsupervised students had nasty, childish rivalries with each other.

"I'll wish Longbottom good luck in finding this bloody thing." Zabini's voice raised above the noise of the other students. He drew an arm back and threw.

Harry was on his broom and chased after the ball.

"Oh, why is everyone breaking the rules?" Hermione lamented.

Over with Harry, he managed to catch the Rememberall and did a twist and flip maneuver before he crashed through a window in the castle. Smirking that he had successfully caught the stray Rememberall, he flew back towards the students on the ground.

Unbeknownst to him, one Professor McGonagall was lamenting the fact that one Harry Potter wasn't in her House. If the boy ever did express an interest in Quidditch, her House would certainly be in trouble. She decided she would say nothing about Harry breaking the rules of flying with no Professor present, because she didn't want Snape catching wind of it.

One reason was because Snape would likely view this as Harry being ever the rule-breaker, just like James. The second was because she and Snape had a strong Quidditch rivalry, and she didn't want Snape to have the advantage.

Merlin curse her luck!

As Harry landed, Draco clapped him on the shoulder.

"That was impressive!"

"Bloody hell, mate!" Ron was right next to him.

Harry handed the Rememberall to Ron.

"You might want to check it for curses," Finnigan said loudly. "Who knows what he might have done to it?"

"Harry's not like that!" Ron looked ready to pummel his fellow Gryffindor.

"He's not worth it," Harry said, putting a hand on Ron's shoulder. Harry's cool gaze landed on Finnigan, who balked at the expression. "That boy is merely an ass who brays in the hopes that others will listen."

Harry smirked as Finnigan glared. "Listen here, Potter-!"

Madam Hooch came back, cutting off whatever argument Finnigan was attempting to continue.

After classes were over, Draco practically dragged Harry over to a trophy case. Ron was right along with him, dragging Harry as well with a grin on his face. It seemed that there was something the two boys could agree on after all.

"Look there, Potter."

Harry did indeed look, and saw that there was a plaque with his father's name.

"You would make an amazing Quidditch player, you know."

"…What's Quidditch?"

Draco's jaw dropped and Ron stared at him incredulously.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that, Potter."

"A part of me just died inside…" Ron said, holding a hand to his chest.

"I think that was your faith in humanity, Weasley."

"I'm just kidding." Harry smiled deviously, which caused his friends to both whack him.

"Anyway, James Potter was a Chaser…" Draco looked down at the plaque for a moment. "Would you be interested in trying out for Quidditch next year?"

"Looks fun…" Harry said as he looked at the other plaques and trophies. "I think Chaser just might be up my alley."

"Really? And here I thought I might have a rival for the Seeker position."

"You're going to try out?" Harry asked excitedly. "That will be so exciting!"

"Bloody hell," Ron muttered. "If only one of you was in Gryffindor, I could at least cheer for  _my_  House. I suppose I could cheer for you breaking a leg, Malfoy."

"Hilarious, Weasely." Draco rolled his eyes. "I think the natural balance would be lost if I had ended up in Gryffindor. The colors clash with my complexion."

"I'll wear Gryffindor colors if the team is facing off against the other two Houses." Harry promised.

"I wouldn't want to be caught dead wearing green and silver." Ron said, "But if you're willing to do that, I could at least do the same. I can't be outdone by a Slytherin or two."

"I think you've warmed the cold, empty crevices of my heart somewhat, Weasley."

"I don't think there's enough coal in the castle for that, Malfoy."

00000

It had been a rather repetitive few weeks with lessons and Harry was getting into the flow of things and was getting bored and antsy. One evening, he, Ron, and Draco were wandering through the castle. Harry had a way of dragging people places along with him. He got Draco by telling him he wanted to learn about any secrets the castle may have held, and Draco latched onto that dangling carrot because as an eleven-year-old boy there  _was_  a thirst for adventure; even if he  _was_  a proper Slytherin.

All it had taken for Ron when they spotted him in the library was an offer to come with them so his homework could wait; and Ron didn't pass it up – even if it was to hang out with two Slytherins – and one of them was Malfoy.  _Harry Potter_  had offered, and that was enough.

Other than a few comments, no-one had really done anything to Ron. Probably because of Fred and George; who had to admit that Harry was growing on them. If anyone messed with Ron, they would earn the twins' ire. Only they were allowed to pull pranks on him.

As they explored (carefully avoiding the Third Floor) they came upon an odd room with only one, lonely object in it: a mirror. Harry stared at the unusual mirror, wondering why it was in such place. Suspicion was something both Harry and Ulquiorra felt at that moment. It was too out-of-place and peculiar.

"We shouldn't be here," Draco commented. "Nosing around is more Gryffindor's style."

"Oi!" Ron hissed.

"Not disagreeing, I see."

Ron stuck his tongue out.

"How childish, Weasley."

Ron glared. "You're childish."

"You wanted to come," Harry absentmindedly interjected. Who he was directing his comment to was unclear.

Ignoring the voices of the two with him, Harry slowly approached the mirror, followed closely by Ron and Draco who were bickering insults at each other. At first glance, it seemed like any other normal mirror, and Harry thought that maybe he and Ulquiorra had been worrying needlessly. Harry stared at the text carved into the frame at the top.

' _Erised stra ehru oy ube cafru oyt on wohis'_

It was garbled nonsense. Looking into the mirror itself, he saw something within the mirror ripple like smoke, and he froze, watching carefully.

The image that appeared before him caused Harry to gasp in pleasant surprise and awe. On either side of him were his parents – minus the green of his eyes, Harry looked exactly like his father. But there was something else…

There in the mirror was him and Ulquiorra standing together, with Harry holding Ulquiorra's hand much like a caring family member would. Ulquiorra was wearing his usual garb, and he looked relaxed; even happy. His father had a hand on Ulquiorra's shoulder; in a way, it was almost like gratitude and approval, but maybe Harry was only imagining it.

_/ "What a ridiculous image. It's completely implausible." /_

_You're right. I thought you were taller._

_/ "…You're hardly one to talk, Potter." /_

_Are you complaining?_

_/ "I_ do not _complain." /_

_Can't you take a compliment, though? I mean, look at you. You look almost normal._

_/ "And since when have you known me to smile like that?" /_

_Ulqui… you really should come with a side of exquisite cheese to go with that vintage whine you've got brewing._

Ulquiorra blinked a few times before he took in what was an attempt at a calming breath. "I'm not brewing any wine…" he muttered irritably. "Why am I even disputing this?"

Whatever "this" was.

Outside, Harry let out a laugh, and he quickly muffled the following snort. Ron looked at him questioningly.

"What do you see, Harry?"

"A super-serious friend of mine who never smiles, and he's smiling."

"Seeing someone smile? Really?" Draco stepped forward, and looked into the mirror. He frowned thoughtfully at first before his eyes widened as his jaw tightened. Draco's hands clenched into fists as his entire body stiffened up.

_You have a very nice smile, Ulqui. Anyway, seeing you next to me is actually part of why I know this isn't real…but it's what I want. I wish I could meet you face-to-face. You're the closest thing to family that I have, and my first friend._

… _I want you to be happy._

From within the room, Ulquiorra went silent. He stared at the image of him and Harry standing together, realizing that  _this_  was how the boy saw him. He was foolishly naïve in that sense…but Ulquiorra found that the image did not irritate him. In fact, it was…it was not all that unpleasant.

 _/ "I suppose…If we_ were _to meet face-to-face…I could likely tolerate it_." _/_

Harry smiled at that.

Draco glared at nothing before he asked almost snappishly, "What do you see, Weasley? Your family rolling around in galleons?"

Harry frowned at the biting comment.

Ron didn't seem to notice, as he was enraptured by whatever he saw in the mirror. "I'm Head Boy, holding  _both_ the House Cup and a Quidditch trophy!" Ron turned to Draco. There was a look on his face as he asked, "What do you see? Your family standing victorious in Hogwarts' ruins?"

Harry was about to say something about the two's comments for each other, but he didn't get a chance.

Draco didn't answer right away as he glared icily at Ron before he looked back at whatever he saw in the mirror, and before he could, there were the sound of footsteps coming their way.

"Oh, hello." Dumbledore said, tearing Draco's attention away from the mirror. Even though it was obvious that they couldn't see each other's true ( _keyword being true_ ) desires, Draco flinched as if he had been caught.

"I… I have to go." Draco said quietly before running out of the room as fast as he could before anyone could think to stop him.

"Professor!" Ron jolted. "Uh, we weren't doing anything, I swear! We just found it! We didn't touch it!"

"I know, my dear boy." Dumbledore said with a laugh. "I must say, it's a pleasant surprise to see you here."

Harry quickly averted his gaze elsewhere, acting like a child who got caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar for a moment before donning an expression of bored apathy.

 _/ "Why is he acting surprised to see you?" /_ Ulquiorra questioned with suspicion.  _/ "He would have certainly seen you coming in. It's impossible to miss someone standing here when coming through the door." /_

"Ah, the Mirror of Erised." Dumbledore said with a wistful sigh, looking into the mirror with a sad glance. "Many a great man has wasted away in front of it, staring at whatever it is they see. It shows a man's deepest, darkest secrets. Others, they see only themselves in their true happiness…and it looks like a normal mirror." Dumbledore glanced down at Harry and Ron. "If you don't mind, boys…can you tell me what you see?"

_/ "Don't tell him the truth. I still don't trust him." /_

Without hesitation, Harry answered with hardly any emotion in his voice, "My best friend. He's helped me out since I was really little. He's like an older brother to me, if I'm to be honest. Both of us are happy."

Sticking to a vague, partial truth was the best option.

Dumbledore smiled. "…Ah, I see. Having that level of kinship with someone is a wonderful thing."

Harry continued to look down, but kept his eyes in a position where he knew Ulquiorra could use the reflection of the mirror to see Dumbledore's expression.

_What's he doing?_

_/ "He doesn't look very happy. He does look somewhat confused, though. I get the feeling that he expected you to see something else." /_

_Like what?_

_/ "How would I know?" /_

Silence hung between Harry, Ron, and Dumbledore, so Ron asked, "What do you see, sir?"

"I'm wearing a pair of very fancy socks. Perhaps…perhaps we should call it a night, eh, Mr. Potter? Mr. Weasley?"

Harry just nodded, and quickly made his way out of the room. He hastened his step when Ulquiorra commented,  _/ "He was lying about whatever he saw in the mirror. He looked regretful." /_

Dumbledore watched as Harry made a hasty exit, not looking back. He was mildly disappointed, because that was to be a teaching moment for young Harry, and yet…the boy hadn't seen his parents, but rather a dear friend. Dumbledore was very curious, though – just who was the friend that Harry was talking about? As far as Dumbledore knew, Harry had no friends outside of Hogwarts; Muggle or otherwise, sad as it was.

It was yet another mystery, because Harry absolutely refused to look at him directly. Perhaps he had been a little too hasty with trying to read the boy's mind. Harry was… odd. There was something about the boy that Dumbledore failed to put his finger on. Harry was either openly laughing with his friends or completely serious, like he was just moments ago. Dumbledore had seen the mild panic there at being caught; but then he saw the mask go up with what was certainly practiced ease.

Someone had trained the boy that was for certain. But the question was, "who?"

00000

It had been several days since Harry had spoken with Draco – and not for his lack of trying. Draco was avoiding him. He had scathing comments and excuses, and was off before Harry could get a word in edgewise.

Finally, tired of all of this, Harry learned from a girl named Pansy Parkinson (Draco's beloved betrothed or so she claimed) that Draco liked to hang out in one of the abandoned astronomy towers whenever he wanted to be alone.

"You didn't hear that from me, understand, Potter?" Pansy said, crossing her arms. A look of concern was on her face though. "Please…talk to him…I don't know what's wrong, and he won't talk to me."

Harry ended up dragging Ron with him because "they were friends".

Ron's objection of, "He's  _your_  friend!" only earned a small scowl and a quirked eyebrow. The two boys made their way up the stairs to the astronomy tower, and politely, Harry knocked on the door.

At first, Harry thought that they had the wrong tower when a voice quietly muttered, "Go away."

Harry entered with a reluctant Ron to find Draco sitting on the floor with his face buried in his knees. Draco turned somewhat to see who it was – and he quickly buried his face again when he realized who was there.

"Are you-are you  _crying?"_  Ron asked incredulously, and he scowled at Harry when he got elbowed in the side.

"I don't-I'm  _not_  crying. Malfoy's don't…they  _don't_  cry." Draco's voice was muffled.

Harry sat down next to him, but kept a decent gap between them. "Draco? What's wrong? You've been acting strange ever since… Ever since that night with the mirror."

Draco still wouldn't look at him. "What do you care, Potter?"

"I can be worried for my friends, you know."

"A Malfoy having problems that galleons can't solve? Who knew?"

"Shut it Weasley!" Draco turned on the other boy so fast, Ron backed away against the wall – and he saw sure enough – Draco  _had_  been crying. "What would you know? That hoard of rabbits that your family consists of can barely afford to feed  _one_  of you!"

"What is your problem?!" Ron shot back heatedly.

"You don't understand  _anything!"_  Draco looked ready to punch Ron.

"Alright, both of you!" Harry was between them before the argument could become physical. "I don't think any of us want to explain why we got into a fight to Madam Pomfrey  _or_  our Heads of House."

It was enough to cause the other two to back down. Draco walked over to his original spot and collapsed back down to the floor with a heavy sigh, keeping his back to Harry and Ron. "Just go away."

"Fine. Let's go, Harry."

"Not before you tell us what was in the mirror." Harry said. "It obviously bothers you enough that you're here, and Pansy is worried about you." Thinking for a moment, Harry held up a hand and put the other over his heart. "I solemnly swear upon my magic and Merlin that I will not repeat what I have heard here today. May Merlin strike me down if I ever reveal to anyone what I've been told."

Harry sent Ron a pointed look, and Ron rolled his eyes. "Fine. I swear too." At Harry's insistent nod, Ron said the same promise albeit reluctantly.

"You two are ridiculous." Draco muttered, but his comment lacked the bite it had before.

Harry sat down again, and Ron sat down as well, but he maintained a good distance between the blond Slytherin and himself.

Draco sighed as he buried his face in his knees again. "That night in the mirror…I saw… I saw my father without the Dark Mark on his arm, and we were happy and normal, and he was proud of me. There wasn't any of the…anything of the Dark Lord's." Draco's voice cracked somewhat as he continued. "He's raised me with the full expectation that the Dark Lord will return someday and I'm supposed to follow in his footsteps… but…what I saw in the mirror… 'I show what your heart desires'…" Draco laughed bitterly. His voice started to pick up as it slowly increased in volume. "It seems I don't want the Dark Lord to come back. I want a normal family where we're happy and there's no Dark Lord to ruin everything! I'm a Blood-Traitor and I deserve to have my name taken off the Family Tree and be disowned!"

Ron was gaping at Draco now. For once, it seemed like Ron didn't have anything to say.

Draco was shaking. "My father's been obsessed with the Dark Lord my  _entire life_  and I wish he'd just  _stop!"_

Ron stared at his feet. Everything he had heard about the Malfoys from his father – they were horrible people who followed the Dark Lord and destroyed things and people's lives, on and on… and now, Ron was sitting with the Malfoy heir who didn't want what his father did. He was just a kid. Ron thought about his own father; a kind man who always told Ron and his siblings that he was proud of them. Thinking about what Draco was saying, it seemed what Ron had always been told and assumed was wrong.

"I want my father to be proud of me…but I…how am I supposed to…?" Draco couldn't seem to finish the thought and he looked entirely drained. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

Harry hesitantly reached a hand over and placed it on Draco's shoulder for a second or two before pulling back.

_Ulquiorra…what do I say? Do I even say anything?_

_/ "I do not fully understand Human emotions or wants, Potter. Why does he want to make his father proud and why does he even care to do such a thing? Why does it even matter? If he doesn't wish to carry out his father's wishes, then isn't that all there is to it?_

" _Besides, why does it even matter to you, when it does not affect you?" /_

_Because he is my friend, Ulqui, and if I were in a similar situation, I'd want someone there to support me. Wouldn't you?_

_/ "I would not know. I have never had a need to make someone proud. If I failed in the mission assigned to me, I would have deserved to die because I failed in completing the mission." /_

_That's not…!_ Harry sighed, noting the heavy silence over them.  _I wouldn't want you to die, Ulqui. If you were ever in trouble, I'd be there. What if… what if Draco's dad did something to him because…_

Finally, Harry said quietly, "You're your own person, Draco… wouldn't…wouldn't you be going against yourself if you did what your dad wanted?"

"What would you know?" Draco asked, but he wasn't looking at Harry and there was no fight in his tone. "You don't even have parents."

It probably was meant to hurt, but all Harry could say was, "Yeah, I don't. I don't know what to say."

"Your dad's a bastard." Ron said. "I mean, with everything. He's supposed to be your dad, but he doesn't act like it if you're talking like this. He's a bloke who throws his weight and money around because he's a Malfoy, and not because he's your dad. I mean…" Ron scratched the back of his head. "You want a life without You Know Who mucking things up for everyone. Anyone with sense wouldn't want him to come back."

"Draco…" Harry didn't like to think of it, but he wondered. "What would your dad do if you  _didn't_  do any of those things, like serving the Dark Lord?"

The expression on Draco's face was more than enough of an answer. "He wouldn't kill me, but probably make me wish I was dead."

"Oh."

Ron shifted uncomfortably, and scratched the back of his head before he muttered, "You know, Malfoy… if um, if things ever start getting messy at your so amazing castle, you could always…you know…visit…" Ron coughed. "Bit of warning though; my mum would want to feed you 'til you burst. My dad'll probably want to show off his Muggle artefacts collection."

Draco was staring at Ron now with a look of surprise.

"Don't read too much into it." Ron said, his tone somewhere between defensive and awkward. "It's just…if you ever need…"

"You sure there'd be room for me?" Draco asked with a small smirk. "I don't know if I want to bunk in the rafters."

Ron shoved Draco's shoulder. "Blast-ended scroot."

Draco laughed – it was more genuine than Harry had ever seen him. Harry smiled, feeling relieved except…

_Do you think I should go after his father? I mean…he made me uncomfortable… If Draco doesn't follow what he says, then…what if his father does something to him?_

_/ "Then he would deserve to get punished for not following orders." /_ Ulquiorra said. Before Harry could object, he continued,  _/ "I honestly don't understand your reasoning. But… if you truly wish to have this boy as your friend and want nothing to happen to him…then you would have to get rid of the father without being caught. I highly doubt people will appreciate him suddenly showing up murdered or disappearing without explanation." /_

… _I'll add it to the to-do list._

Ulquiorra stared at the blond boy with mounting curiosity. He was smiling, but he still looked sad. Clearly, this desire to make his father proud clashed with what he  _truly_  desired. Why would Harry even want to get involved? Why was it even any of their (or more precisely)  _Harry's_ business? Wanting to be involved because this boy's father would punish him; the redhead offering an escape…

Harry had said something about if Ulquiorra were in trouble, he'd be there? Wasn't Harry already technically 'there'?

Silence had descended on the three boys. They simply sat there and stared out at the sky, saying nothing. Was this what it meant to "be there" for someone? Was it offering solace where and when you could? But the relief was only temporary; for Malfoy could only refuse to return home for so long.

Was it planning to ensure the safety of someone else?

The thought of the woman and her foolish friends who stormed Lord Aizen's castle in a hopeless rescue effort that in reality wasn't so hopeless after all… Had they truly been fools?

The thought crossed Ulquiorra's mind once again after so long: 'What does it mean to be Human?'

For such a simple question, it does not have one, complete answer.

The woman had friends who were willing to die for her sake. But if they had died, Ulquiorra would have said it was her fault, somehow. He would have pointed out how she didn't try hard enough to warn them not to come. He would have said everything to break that foolish spirit she had until she was compliant with everything that Aizen wanted from her.

But here Harry was, wanting to do exactly what the woman's friends had done. It went against Ulquiorra's survival instincts. It was better to protect oneself than be a shield for someone else.

But…

_/ "Potter… If you desire my help to rescue this friend of yours, just…ask. We both know that you'll end up doing something foolish if I leave you to your own devices."/_

Harry had tucked his legs up and rested his arms on his knees. He smiled a little from behind his arms.

_Thank you, Ulqui._

0000

If someone had told Ulquiorra that he would be helping an eleven-year-old deliver a letter to his falsely imprisoned godfather, he would have called the idea absurd and the person a fool; yet here he was.

They had overheard a group of Third-Years talking excitedly about an upcoming trip to Hogsmead and the things they were planning to do and buy. At Ulquiorra's prompting, Harry asked about what was going on.

Hogsmead was a town several miles down the road from Hogwarts (and Ulquiorra would certainly admit to himself but not aloud that he was somewhat proud) and without any of Ulquiorra's prompting, Harry asked,

"Do they have an apothecary there?"

"Well, yeah?" the Slytherin Third-Year said, an odd sort of quirk to her eyebrows showed that she was questioning why Harry was asking such a thing when perfectly good school owls were available.

"That's excellent," Harry replied with a smile that showed he was likely up to no good, and of course, his fellow Slytherins wouldn't dare tell on him. Harry gave a polite bow. "Thank you."

One of the girls asked, "You aren't doing anything that'll take points from Slytherin are you?"

She was asking a lot more than that, it was clear. 'Are you going to get caught?' 'Is it dangerous?' and much more. If there was some sort of risk, she would be going straight to Professor Snape.

"Oh, no worries." Harry said, and left it at that.

A few days later during the late evening under a rapidly graying sky, Ulquiorra was making his way to Hogsmead, easily traversing through the sky as if he were stepping on invisible stones. He wore a long, dark and hooded cloak with a pointed hat that awkwardly covered his horn. It was best to not have any real identifiers even if people couldn't really get to him – unless they knew of his coexistence with Harry.

Ulquiorra landed on the ground right by a decrepit old shack and casually walked towards the town as if he had every right to be there. Once in town, a few people did glance Ulquiorra's way; but he ignored them – and seeing a man who walked with such a purpose and wore a dark cloak made several of the townsfolk uncomfortable and made it their business to ignore him.

Ulquiorra reached the apothecary uninterrupted, and walked in.

000

Before the man at the counter could even greet his customer, the ravens and owls all began to screech and violently flap their wings. The accompanying thunder and perfectly timed downpour did nothing to alleviate the building fear and tension.

"I wish to have a letter delivered." was all the man said once he approached the counter, holding up a small envelope with a pale hand that had black-painted fingernails. Marvin wasn't sure, but he was positive there were two glowing green orbs glaring at him from under the hat and hood the man wore – the light in his humble establishment didn't seem strong enough to reach the shadows covering the man's face. That…that could only mean his eyes glowed on their own.

Marvin gulped, wondering just who this man was that caused his birds such violent distress.

"I expect full discrepancy," the man continued speaking. His accent was odd, making it difficult to place. "If anyone comes looking, I'll know just who I have to kill."

Marvin nodded fearfully, and took the letter – and he briefly noticed the name of the addressee on the letter –  _Sirius Black_ and  _Azkaban_ and he did his best to remain composed.  _Death Eater_  was all his mind screamed at him as Marvin quickly got an owl set out. The poor bird was all too relieved to leave.

Marvin turned around to tell the man how much it would be to deliver a letter, but the mysterious stranger was gone. All that was left were several galleons on the counter; much more than what the cost of sending a simple letter was worth. It was to pay for the letter and his silence; or his life, if Marvin didn't know better. But he was  _so_  relieved, thank Merlin, that the man was gone. He didn't want to deal with the stranger ever again.

000

Ulquiorra arrived back at the castle, landing on the astronomy tower and then climbing inside. Ulquiorra quickly switched with Harry, and Harry made his way down to the Slytherin Common Room as if he hadn't been off delivering letters to alleged Death Eaters.

Step One was complete.

Now, to learn who exactly was in charge of the various positions of government and who was in charge at the time his parents died/Sirius was prosecuted. Ulquiorra recommended showing them true despair.

_Um… Not just yet, I don't think._

0000

 _A prison cell in Azkaban:_  
Sirius was exhausted. The Dementors had made their monthly rounds, getting only tastes from the prisoners' memories in order to hold some form of power over the inmates. Controlled only by the various guards who could cast a Patronus; and more often than not guards would let some Dementors feed just a breadth too long.

As was routine. It was always the same, and that routine ironically could keep a man slightly sane. Sirius honestly felt that he deserved to wallow in the worst of the memories – of how he had so utterly failed James, who was his brother in anything but blood, and Lily...

That despicable  _rat!_

But the routine was broken that day.

One of the guards was standing outside of his cell, looking particularly annoyed and suspicious.

"I don't know why, but someone has sent you a letter. It's for your eyes only, apparently."

He was holding what looked to be a very Muggle sort of envelope through the bars. Sirius took the letter, and he could  _feel_  the magic on the envelope. Who…?

Slowly, Sirius opened the letter. It was in odd handwriting, clearly an adult had written it. But who?

' _Sirius – I know the truth, and the truth shall set you free._

_I'm doing what I can, but for now I can only do so much;_

_So I'm afraid you will have to wait just a bit longer._

_For it was the Rat who lied and fled; he is hiding in plain sight.'_

Sirius stared in disbelief. Something washed over him. Relief – that was most likely it. Someone had found out the truth, but _how?_ And they knew where that bastard was hiding! This only caused more questions to arise.

"Who is it from?" the guard questioned, holding out an expectant hand.

Because he didn't want trouble, Sirius smirked as he handed over the letter, "What, jealous?"

Sirius' smirk grew as the guard stared at the letter with distain. His smirk turned to one of confusion though.

"Why would someone send you a bunch of scribbles? Is this some sort of code?"

"It's abstract art." Sirius replied. "I see a beautiful woman draped over a loveseat wearing nothing but a small robe…"

So the letter had been charmed...how interesting...

The guard stared at the letter for a moment before muttering, "Whatever" and tossing the letter back into the cell.

Sirius was quick to grab it up. He read the lines a few more times before tucking the letter away somewhere it would be safe.

For the first time in so many years, Sirius was content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much happened here… I feel accomplished. I've also realized that Ulquiorra has been rather vexed quite a bit lately. 'Ulquiorra was annoyed' is an oft repeated phrase.
> 
> Marvin will most certainly show up again, and will be gradually getting richer and more appreciative of his life with every appearance; although he'll also be getting stressed and accompanying gray hairs. Poor Marvin.
> 
> Draco is realizing things about himself that will shape him into the person he's going to become. Ron is learning that the son doesn't necessarily take after his father, and his world is becoming just a bit bigger. I was intending for things to sort of take a few chapters, but I got to liking their interactions so much here, that I decided to just keep it in and add some extra scenes.


	7. In which there is Detention and a Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a dragon and a plan to get it out of Hogwarts without getting caught and keeping Hagrid out of trouble. Now if only the students could keep out of trouble; but alas, that's impossible. When Harry and Draco are in the Forest serving detention, they come across a strange creature feasting on a unicorn, and they also meet Firenze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter took place before Halloween, which is why Hermione didn’t interact much with the boys. But Hermione is here!   
> Please remember that these chapters don’t necessarily come in the right order, but are written in whatever suits my muse. So there will be references to past events that technically haven’t been written yet but will be in a future chapter. But, I will make sure that there is something of a timeline to help keep things clear.

_A few weeks after Halloween and the discovery of Fluffy:_

0-0-0

Hagrid was bustling about his shack as he hummed a jolly tune to himself, and he turned the dragon’s egg in his fireplace. The egg would be hatching any day now! Just then, there was a knock at his door, and when Hagrid answered, “Yeah?” the door opened, and four people entered.

Fang immediately whined and crawled under the bed, and Hagrid was curious why – Fang usually loved people, and often wanted all the attention he could get.

“Evening, Hagrid.” Harry greeted, and Hagrid missed the uneasy look the boy sent Fang, who was whimpering from his spot under the bed.

Hagrid really didn’t expect to see the kids again so soon; it had only been a few days, and plus, it wasn’t the best time! He shuffled about his shack, making sure everything was in its proper place. If he didn’t draw any attention to the dragon egg in the fireplace, then no-one would notice.

 Harry’s friends all greeted him – even Eden, who flew up to nuzzle his cheek and explore his beard and hair.

All the kids accepted the offer of tea, but didn’t take any rock cakes. That was fine with Hagrid; more for him! After settling in, it was Harry who got right down to business:

“Hagrid, what’s with that huge dog?”

“Ya mean Fluffy?” and it was then Hagrid realized he had screwed up again. “Oh, uh…I mean…”

“It has a name? It nearly bit our heads off!” Ron said, looking aghast.

“Oh, but he’s normally so friendly.” Hagrid defended practically, without really thinking. “Fluffy’s a good boy.”

“Where on _earth_ would you find a dog like _that?!”_ Hermione practically demanded.

“I got ‘im off a friendly chap I met in a bar.” Hagrid said with a wave of his hand.

“It sounds like someone else’s problem became yours…” Draco said, arching an eyebrow.

“Now, now…” Hagrid chided, “Fluffy’s not a problem, big as a brute he is. He’s very playful; likes to play fetch an’ belly rubs. Plus, he falls asleep to music.”

“Oh, is that so?” Harry said with a smile. “I guess then we should just forget about the part where Fluffy tried to _eat_ us.”

Hagrid didn’t really think to ask why the students were in a place that they weren’t supposed to be. Rather, he was focused on Fluffy.

“He’s not _that_ bad…he jus’ forge’s his size, is all.”

“The poor thing…” Hermione said with a shake of her curly head. “Something that size shouldn’t be locked up…”

“It’s jus’ temp’rary,” Hagrid quickly explained. “Once his job of guardin’ the Stone is done, then he can wander the Forbidden Forest. Ol’ Dumbledore will have wards put up so tha’ people don’ stumble upon ‘im on acciden’.”

The four kids all gave him an odd expression that was unanimously shared between them.

“What’s that cracking noise?” Draco asked, looking around.

Hagrid quickly stood and tried to shuffle the kids out of his home.

“Now, I’m kinda busy, so I’m afraid I’m gonna hafta cut this visi’ shor’. Stay away from tha’ room, you lo’, and leave things ta Dumbledore.”

“Bloody hell, that’s a dragon’s egg!” Ron exclaimed, pointing at the fireplace.

“Dragon’s egg? Like a _real_ dragon?” Harry was next to Ron, examining the egg.

“Why do you have something like that?” Draco asked, looking at Hagrid with a raised brow that might as well be drifting off of his forehead.

Hagrid was like the child who was caught with their hand in the proverbial cookie jar.

“I won it off a chap in a card game…” Hagrid said weakly, but he quickly moved to get the egg out of the fireplace.

“You live in a _wooden_ hut, Hagrid.” Hermione said slowly as Hagrid put the egg on the table.

“Tha’s fine,” Hagrid quickly dismissed in his excitement.

“Dragons breathe fire and wood burns,” Draco added, even though he was right next to Hagrid to watch the egg hatch. The excitement was clear on the boy’s face – even though he tried to hide it.

Sure enough, the dragon hatched and Hagrid could tell by the size, shape and number of horns that the dragon was male.

“I’m goin’ to call ya Norbert!” Hagrid said with a coo in his voice.

Norbert squeaked and…breathed a small, but large enough flame to set his beard on fire. It was Draco who quickly cast an _Augmenti_ spell and put out the flames. The dragon slowly turned its attention on Harry, who – suddenly backed away and to the door with a wide-eyed look and Eden was suddenly between her Master and Norbert. The two reptiles hissed and growled at each other for a few moments before Norbert bowed his head and grumbled, and Eden somehow had a victorious smirk on her reptilian face.

She hissed and nodded, and promptly flew over to land on Harry’s shoulder. Harry looked immensely relieved.

Hagrid quickly grabbed some raw meat and fed Norbert, who tore into his meal happily.

“I really don’t think Norbert can stay here, Hagrid…” Ron said, warily watching Norbert.

“I can take care of ‘im,” Hagrid defended.

“But dragons _grow.”_ Ron emphasized.

“Not to mention they’re 4-5X class dangerous depending on the breed and illegal to own.” Draco crossed his arms.

Feeling properly chided, Hagrid slumped in defeat. “But I can’ jus’ get rid of ‘im! What’s gonna happen ta poor Norbert?”

“My brother Charlie works at a dragon sanctuary, so I could write to him…” Ron thoughtfully rested his chin in his hand.

This prompted Ron, Hermione, and Harry to start thinking of a plan, while Draco stood off to the side, looking annoyed.

“This is absolutely ridiculous.” Draco declared. “I _will not_ be caught up in this foolishness.”

0000

Draco didn’t know why he was here. Well, he told himself it was because those three couldn’t handle this on their own. Harry had his moment of being a proper Slytherin; only to have Gryffindor impulses. Hermione seemed like a Ravenclaw wearing the skin of a Lion, honestly; she was clever, and had impressive intelligence and aptitude for magic for a Muggle-born. Ron’s plan was honestly absurd, but Draco would have to admit that it _did_ have some merit.

Draco was willing to help – but only from a distance, he was going to be their lookout. He didn’t want to get detention, and since his father was an investor and was on the board of governors for the school, it wouldn’t look good if his son got caught outside of curfew. If they were caught, Draco was planning to use them as a distraction as he quickly escaped back to the dungeons.

So, the plan was that they would meet Ron’s brother at one of the astronomy towers, pass off Norbert, and then back to their respective Houses.

Standing outside of the entrance to the astronomy tower in his nightclothes, complete with a Slytherin green robe, Draco kept his eyes and ears open for any passing Prefects and Filch. Basically, all he had to do was knock on the door if he heard anything and then hide – but something he hadn’t expected was a _pair_ of Hufflepuff Prefects who apparently decided that this particular corridor was the perfect place to meet up after finishing their rounds.

“Malfoy?” the girl said, looking at him with a raised brow. She adjusted her glasses. “What are you doing here?”

Draco wanted to run, hell, it was his first instinct, but – Draco didn’t answer right away, trying to think of what he should do. He thought of his great Uncle Murtaugh, who had terrified him when he had been younger because the man talked in his sleep and had his own terrifying tendency to sleepwalk. Whenever this particular uncle had stayed with them, Uncle Murtaugh had given Draco nightmares because of his erratic sleeping habits.

Draco couldn’t believe he was about to this.

He turned to the door and knocked five times – signaling to the others that someone was out there. “Mrs. Emory, are you there?”

“…Malfoy?” the older boy of the Prefect pair said slowly, looking unsure.

“Easy-peasy is jumping off the rafters like a rat.” Draco said, purposefully not focusing on either of the Prefects as he slumped away from the door.

“Is he…sleepwalking?” the girl asked.

Draco then sat on the floor and began rocking back and forth and meowing a few times before he got up and started “wandering” again. He could only hope that the others would get away.

Suddenly spinning around and staring wide-eyed at nothing, he could see that the Prefects were looking uncomfortable.

“What if Dementors stripped off our flesh instead of consuming our souls? That would hurt.”

He then turned back and began shuffling along again, hoping that the elder Weasley had picked up Norbert by now and the others were making their way back to their dorms.

The guy who Draco learned was called “Martin” gently took Draco’s arm and began guiding him. By now, they had reached the end of the corridor, and the First-Year could only hope that his sleepwalking act would last and that the others had gotten away by now.

Except…there was a loud yowl that caused all three students to jump – followed by a round of cursing and hissed arguing – and there was yelling – specifically by Filch. Filch was yelling at Ron about the abuse to his precious Mrs. Norris.

“Dammit, Weasley.” Draco muttered before he could catch himself. That was when he realized both the Prefects were now looking at him suspiciously. Thinking quickly, he added, “That’s not how you skin a goat.”

Both of the older students frowned, but they weren’t buying it.

Filch walked up to them, with both Harry and Ron in a tight grip, with Hermione following helplessly after. She looked as if she was starting to cry.

“I hope Dumbledore lets me hang you by your fingernails!” Filch sounded hopeful.

0000

Dumbledore looked over the four First-Year students standing in his office. Severus had a scowl that might as well made Minerva’s own scowl look as if she was smiling pleasantly.

“What on earth were you doing, Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger?”

The tone in the Professor’s voice clearly showed that she would be particularly upset if she were lied to.

“We were…” Ron said slowly, “star-gazing? It’s an astronomy tower.”

The Professor’s eyebrow arched. “Without _any_ astronomy equipment?”

Hermione started to cry and she buried her face in her hands. _“Please_ don’t expel us! I don’t think I could handle going back to a Muggle school after this! I don’t want to disappoint my parents! I _can’t_ have my record be-be…” Hermione’s voice trailed off into loud sobbing.

Ron put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Ms. Granger, no-one is going to be expelled tonight.” Minerva said, and a muffled “really?” came from Hermione. Though, the poor girl didn’t seem like she believed it.

“What about you two?” Severus asked with accusation in his voice, looking specifically at Harry.

“I was sleepwalking.” Draco glanced off to the side.

That caused Severus to sigh. “Draco, you haven’t ever in your life sleepwalked.”

At least Draco had the decency to blush and look ashamed.

“Eden was restless, and so I was letting her fly around.” Harry explained. “It was quite a surprise to see the others there.”

“I say we string them up!” came Filch’s opinion, which was simply ignored.

It was interesting, Dumbledore had to admit, that these students from rivaling Houses were sticking together in their own way.

“Detention for all of you, I suppose.” Dumbledore said with his most grandfatherly smile. “I’ll let the Professors of your Houses determine what your punishment will be.”

Both Severus and Minerva took that moment to step to the side and whisper to each other, until finally, they determined, the Forbidden Forest with Hagrid. The Forest was often used as a scare tactic to (hopefully) keep students in line.

000

Harry, Draco, Ron, and Hermione weren’t very popular the following day –  they had cost their respective Houses 40 points each – putting both Houses a whopping 80 points behind Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff.

Ron had to be intercepted more than once because he kept wanting to fight whoever threw an insult his or Hermione’s way. Of course, people were surprised that a pair of _Slytherins_ were stopping a Gryffindor from making a fool of himself and potentially costing the rival House more points.

Finally, that evening came.

Harry noticed how nervous Draco was. “Are you scared?”

“As if!” Draco quickly denied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “It’s not like there’re giant spiders and monsters in there that have the potential to kill us. What’s to worry about?”

“Giant-giant _spiders?”_ Ron squeaked. “There’re spiders? Can’t we be punished in the castle?”

“Now, now, Mr. Weasley,” Madam Hooch said with her hands on her hips. “No complaining, you brought this on yourselves.”

“March forward,” Filch motioned with a jerk of his hand. He seemed disappointed that no-one was going to be punished by torture.

Hermione had managed to pull her nearly unmanageable hair into a ponytail, allowing more of her face to show. This was because she was afraid of getting something caught in her hair and laying its eggs.

Filch led the four to Hagrid’s hut, with Madam Hooch bringing up the rear. 

Hagrid went off with Ron and Hermione, while Madam Hooch had Harry and Draco in her charge. There wasn’t much to see in Harry’s opinion; it was trees and more trees, and oh, look over there, it was a downed tree.

There were certainly the usual noises of any forest; but there also seemed to be accompanying whispers and echoes. There was an odd noise from somewhere to their right, and that was when Madame Hooch saw something reflective on a bush.

She shined the light of her wand over it – it looked like liquid silver. The expression on her face could be described as unnervingly scary. “Both of you, draw your wands and keep sharp. Stay behind me at all times.”

She led the two boys forward several more feet, and that was when they saw it – some sort of figure was strangely hunched over a unicorn.

**_/ “That’s the stuttering fool of a Professor…” /_ **

Ulquiorra’s voice was what kept Harry from doing anything foolish. Harry could feel the pull in the back of his mind, telling him that Ulquiorra was ready and willing to switch if need be.

Hooch fired a stunning spell, and the creature/Professor barely dodged. He let out this unnatural-sounding screech that sent shivers down the spines of the three people who heard it – and made the fourth want to kill him. Quirrell moved unnaturally, flitting around the trees and screeching in a distorted voice.

Hooch was rapidly firing off spells as she stood valiantly between Quirrell and her charges. Draco looked frightened – almost as if he had been petrified, and Harry grabbed his arm and yanked him to the side when Quirrell unexpectedly fired off a spell. That seemed to get Draco’s brain back in gear as he started firing off his own Curses – and one brushed by Quirrell’s leg, and they could see a spurt of blood. There was a strangely combined howling and screaming.

Madam Hooch cursed under her breath something no First-Year had any business hearing, and Ulquiorra was about to come out when – Quirrell screeched when something hit him in the shoulder, and he quickly flitted away.

A Centaur trotted up to them a few minutes later, and Madam Hooch quickly bowed.

“Thank you, Firenze.”

Firenze only nodded as he put his bow away. “Of course, Madam Hooch.”

“Greetings, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy…” Firenze trailed off as he looked at Harry, and frowned. “Who is that which stands behind you?”

Both Madam Hooch and Draco rapidly turned to look behind them, but saw no-one.

“What are you talking about?” Harry asked, feeling uneasy but doing his best to hide it.

“…He is surrounded by death and despair.”

That caused Ulquiorra to tense up. He wanted to kill the Centaur in an act of self-preservation, but that would be far too impulsive. A foolish move. He needed to wait and see what this creature would do.

Firenze knelt down, which honestly looked awkward, and he stared at Harry Potter, making him and Ulquiorra both feel extremely uneasy. “But yet…there is something else. This is…” Firenze frowned.  

The Centaur looked up at the sky and seemed to whisper to himself as his lips moved and his eyes trailed after something only he could see. He then looked back to Harry – but yet, Ulquiorra felt as Firenze was looking at _him_.

“The Planets inexplicably rearranged themselves six years ago, and none of the Centaurs foresaw such a thing occurring, and we wondered what had changed. I see now that you were the cause.” Firenze’s head tilted to the side, and he glanced off in that direction. He then turned back, studying Harry again. “I suppose… we can do nothing but trust that you will make the right choice when those times come. Your presence has tilted the axis ever so slightly and is very much the equivalent of the butterfly flapping its wings. I can tell that very soon, you’ll find the answer you’re looking for.”

Firenze stood, gave the Humans a final nod before trotting off and disappearing among the trees.

“What was that?” Draco asked, looking even paler than he usually did. “First, that creature and now the Centaur talking to you like that? What the bloody hell _was_ that?”

“I…don’t…” Harry didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to lie, but how was he supposed to tell people that the creature was Quirrell and then explain how he knew? Plus, Firenze, who seemed to leave Ulquiorra feeling on edge, because the Centaur had been talking about and to him. He didn’t like it.

But their attention was pulled away as Madam Hooch approached the unicorn.

“The poor creature,” Madam Hooch whispered as she stroked its neck gently. She didn’t look at the students as she spoke. “Do you boys know what happens when you kill a unicorn? A great calamity befalls you – at least, it is something that you can walk away from as long as you admit that you killed it and express regret. But for those who drink a unicorn’s blood?”

The unicorn’s breathing slowly came to a stop.

Her yellow eyes were eerie in the moonlight. “It may extend their lives, but they will lead a half-life; a _Cursed_ life. It will be a horrible, terrifying thing when the fates catch up to them.”

“What are we going to do with it?” Draco asked, as he walked just a bit closer to look at the unicorn.

“Let forest have her back.” Madam Hooch said, patting the unicorn’s neck. She stepped back as vines and roots began to wrap around the body and slowly pull it into the earth. “I believe once we kill that creature, the unicorns will return.”

She smiled at them. “Unicorns are one of the few magical creatures that can reincarnate. Although, in this case, since their blood has been taken, you could say that they’re being held prisoner. I believe that thing has killed at least five Unicorns so far.” Madam Hooch started walking, and motioned for the two boys to follow her. “I must say, I almost feel sorry for that wraith creature, because a unicorn’s wrath is so perilous and inescapable.”

With a wink, she added, “Wands out and be vigilant, you two. Oh, and twenty points to each of you for defending each other and taking action when it mattered.”

0000

The next day hours before classes had started, Madam Hooch was in Dumbledore’s office. She declined his offer of a lemon drop, but did take the offer of tea.

She told him of the events the night before.

“It was very strange, Headmaster,” she said after a sip of her tea. “It seemed that Firenze was speaking to Mr. Potter, but not _to_ him. Firenze questioned who it was that was standing behind Mr. Potter, but no-one was there. He spoke of the Planets changing six years ago, and how this mysterious person was the cause – and that they were surrounded by death and despair. It seems that this person, whoever they are, has had quite the effect. Like a butterfly flapping its wings, he said.”

Dumbledore leaned forward on his desk and folded his hands. “Is it something to be concerned about?”

“Honestly? I don’t know. Firenze spoke as if this person were an ally.”

This person…could they have been the one to train Harry? The mysterious friend he had spoken of? Did they share some sort of mental link; and that was what had kept him out and how Firenze knew he could speak to them? It was likely that when Firenze spoke of someone being “behind” Harry, he was talking metaphorically.

While Dumbledore certainly had had plans for Harry; and his actions could likely be villainized, it was all for the greater good. It was what had to be done to truly bring Tom to an end. He told himself that many times. Perhaps he was making excuses.

Who was this new player? Were they an ally or something else? That death and despair comment…it was worrying. Dumbledore had taken into account many things, but this certainly wasn’t one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: A three-headed dog, probably.  
> ~:An Author’s rambles:~  
> I want to give Madam Hooch more to do, and I really like her character – like, it doesn’t really seem like she does that much. I figure she’s the flight instructor; but she’s also there at all of the Quidditch auditions to make sure that the Team Captains are fair and aren’t showing any favoritism. Like, the Team Captains will have to get her approval for some cases, having to defend why they want a certain player on the field. Buying your way in actually isn’t that easy. (Unless a Professor suddenly throws a First-Year into the Gryffindor Seeker position).  
> Once the teams are established, she can step back and let them have themselves to themselves.  
> She also is a tutor in all the subjects, and – she is a maths Professor, I mean, I’m sure Muggle parents would want their kids to learn and not have to attend summer school, so it’s a required subject for everyone.  
> Also – she attends various detentions if required, and well, if the Forbidden Forest is so dangerous, why were two First-Year students allowed to go off by themselves with nothing but a scared dog for protection??


	8. In Which There is no Love for Dogs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's had some pretty unpleasant experiences with animals; mostly dogs. Ulquiorra has no patience for nonsense, and decides action must be taken. The students realize that the school is housing something very powerful. oh, what is a student to do, other than study and stay out of trouble?? Go looking for it, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are a dog lover I apologize. I adore dogs. No actual dogs were harmed in the writing of this chapter. This chapter takes place before Detention and a Dragon

It was just a few day after Ulquiorra had come to him that Harry realized animals acted differently with him – in the most drastic of ways. When Harry went to Mrs. Figg’s for the day because his relatives were doing something celebratory, that wasn’t unusual. What was unusual was how all – _all_ of her cats were hissing and spitting at him. They hid under furniture and peered out with eerie eyes glowing furiously and refused to come out.

“Oh, how odd…” Mrs. Figg murmured. “They usually like you! What’s gotten into them?”

Mrs. Figg proceeded to scold the cats about their behavior to no avail (because really, since when did cats care what people thought?) Harry just stared, unsure as what was going on, and what he should do, if anything, about it.

Simply shrugging it off, with Mrs. Figg’s permission, Harry proceeded to turn on _The Wizard of Oz._ He had mentioned it to Ulquiorra, and wanted to watch it.

The neighborhood dogs didn’t like him much either. They either barked and snarled or whimpered and slinked away with their tail between their legs. So now avoiding the neighborhood dogs was another factor in young Harry Potter’s life.

When Harry was around eight, Aunt Marge (a rather unpleasant woman) paid her brother a visit. She had been busy with dog shows and the like for the past few years, and hadn’t had a chance to visit. Harry would have preferred she stayed busy.

Harry stood quietly off to the side of the sitting room, waiting for his chance to disappear. Within the Mind Room, Ulquiorra stared at the woman – she freakishly looked _exactly_ like her brother – minus the mustache. Vernon could shave and dress in drag, and there seriously wouldn’t be a difference. It was an opinion he decided was better kept to himself.

Ripper, Marge’s prized bulldog, was at her heel, and Harry took a few steps back to make sure to avoid it. Marge, meanwhile was making comments about Harry and his ‘disreputable family’ to Vernon and Petunia. Harry sent a few glares her way, but said nothing. He’d much rather avoid trouble; although he wished she would just stop talking about it and that at least Petunia would put a stop to it. But no, Petunia was all false smiles and agreements, absentmindedly scratching behind her right ear.

Ripper was sniffing around, while Marge didn’t pay attention to her beast. Harry tried to subtly take a few steps away to make sure he kept a good distance between them. The dog must have gotten a whiff of something as it neared Harry, because it suddenly charged at Harry with a snarl.

Ripper clamped down on Harry’s leg – and as one would do when they are being bitten by anything really, Harry kicked Ripper in the face. Ignoring Marge’s yelling about her concern over what Harry was doing to her “poor Rippie-poo”, Harry unwittingly sent out a burst of magic that forced the dog to release him with a painful-sounding yelp. As soon as he had a chance, Harry ran outside.

He tried fighting back the tears but failed.

 _/ “Stop crying.” /_ Ulquiorra ordered, but that only seemed to result in Harry crying harder. Ulquiorra sighed, not liking having to deal with a child and their tears. But this needed to be dealt with. He added in a less harsh tone, _/ “Just stop. You need to evaluate your injuries.”/_

“Okay.” Harry sniffled as he looked at his bloody ankle, which had soaked through the pant leg of his jeans.

_/ “Go to that Figg woman’s house. She should be able to help you.” /_

Mrs. Figg was thankfully home, and she looked aghast at the sight of Harry. Thankfully, there was a nearby clinic, and when he was asked about what dog did this, Harry knew that he couldn’t tell the truth. His aunt and uncle would be even more unpleasant.

“It was a dog that I hadn’t seen before,” which was true. “It had really matted fur but was also patchy in places.”

Harry gave an impossible but believable description; not wanting some innocent neighborhood dog to suffer.

Mrs. Figg walked Harry home, and after the pretense of pleasantness from Vernon and Petunia; the moment the front door closed, Vernon slapped Harry. Marge was off to the side, looking pleased. Harry glared, refusing Vernon the satisfaction of a response.

Harry marched straight to his cupboard and slammed the door. He heard the latch lock, and Harry collapsed onto his cot. Tears were streaming down Harry’s face as he stared into the darkness.

_I wish we could go somewhere far away from here, Ulqui._

Unsure of how to respond, Ulquiorra simply said, _/ “…you should sleep.”/_

Within the room, something flared within Ulquiorra, and he failed to put words to it. Watching the dog and how the relatives reacted made him feel…he wanted to intervene. If only because it was an irritating inconvenience – nothing more. This entire ordeal was nonsensical. But what could Harry do… Ulquiorra sighed, knowing that this wasn’t something to be left to a child.

_000_

The next day, the relatives left. And of course, they left the door locked as punishment.

_/ “Let me out, Potter.” /_

Unsure of what Ulquiorra was going to do, Harry obliged. Ulquiorra proceeded to kick the door from its hinges, then let Harry take over again. Harry gaped as he watched from the room and he stared slack-jawed at the broken door once he was out.

“Oh, bloody hell, Ulqui…”

_/ “Pay attention to when your relatives come back.” /_

“Okay?”

When Harry went to take care of chores, Ulquiorra told him to stop.

_/ “You aren’t doing anything of the sort.” /_

“…Ulqui?”

 _/ “I have had_ enough _of their nonsense.” /_

“Ulqui? What are you going to do?”

000

Arriving home from an evening of merriment with her beloved husband, son, and sister-in-law, Petunia walked from the car, up the small path, and up the steps to her front door. She waited as a smiling Vernon unlocked the door and let her enter first; followed by Marge. Ripper unexpectedly began a strange mix of whimpering and growling.

“What the ruddy hell…?” Vernon stared at the broken cupboard door that was the boy’s room. “BOY! COME HERE!”

There wasn’t a response, but there were noises coming from the kitchen. Vernon, followed by Petunia, Marge (with Ripper in tow) and Dudley, all went into the kitchen. Petunia nearly ran into her husband when he suddenly stopped stock-still.

“Who the hell are you and how did you get into my house?!” he demanded.

A shiver went up Petunia’s spine at those words, and she glanced over her husband’s shoulder to see a young man sitting at their kitchen table. He had several tea and coffee cups in front of him. His appearance wasn’t anything like _those_ people. Unnaturally pale; black hair; half of a white helmet for some reason; unnatural eerie green eyes with tear-like streaks…

His appearance…was somehow familiar…where had she…?

The strange man didn’t bother to answer Vernon. In fact, he didn’t even look up as he sipped what looked to be coffee from his cup.

“I’ve tried a variety of teas and have tried coffee prepared different ways,” the man finally acknowledged them by glancing up. His voice was deep and monotone, and it sent shivers up Petunia’s spine. “I don’t really understand the appeal.” Pointing to one of the coffee-filled cups, he said, “But this one was pleasant enough.”

Vernon stepped forward threateningly, giving everyone room to enter the kitchen. Ripper was snarling and barking up a storm.

“Shut that creature up or I will silence it myself.”

Marge gasped. “How _dare_ you!”

Ripper suddenly writhed his way out of Marge’s arms and charged at the man, who simply glanced down without really inclining his head. Ripper charged forward and continued barking so ferociously he was foaming at the mouth.

A finger pointed at the dog. _“Cero.”_

Petunia couldn’t remember who screamed first. It was certainly one of the four of them, but they were too afraid to move. All of them stared at what remained of Ripper.

Marge was crying and her face was red. “You brute! You horrid, _horrid_ brute! How could you?!”

“I will gladly send you to the afterlife with your mutt if you continue that aggravating drivel, woman.”

Marge, thankfully quieted down immediately. Petunia had _no idea_ that a threat merely spoken could feel like this.

Dudley hid behind Petunia, and stared at the stranger, shaking. “M-Mum, that’s…that’s him…”

“We meet again, Dudley Dursley.”

“You’re the one who attacked my son and his friends!” Petunia said aghast.

“Get out of my house, or I’ll call the police!” Vernon shouted. “I have connections! I’ll sue you for all that you’re worth!”

“Sit down.”

“You don’t tell me what to do in my house--! Petunia, call the authorities--!”

Vernon was cut off when the stranger threw the dining table at the wall – with one hand, and he didn’t even have to stand up to do it. Broken glass, the table, coffee, and tea scattered across the counters, floor and wall. A green light shot passed the four people, and there was the distinct sound of the phone getting busted; along with the table it had rested on.

There was also a smoking hole in more than one of their walls.

“That…that was my great-grandmother’s table!” Petunia gasped out. “My walls…!”

“Sit down. I will not ask again. If you don’t, I _will_ break your legs so that you will have no other choice _but_ to sit.”

All of them quickly sat down, feeling the genuine weight of that threat. Petunia was crying, and Vernon was very, very purple with his anger.

“First of all, I do not like how you are treating Harry Potter. You will let him have the room where your spawn keeps all of his undesired and broken toys. That room will be Harry’s and his alone from now on. Anything that belongs to Dudley Dursley will either be tossed out or kept in his own room. You will provide for Harry, and stop giving him the things your spawn doesn’t want or no longer needs.”

The man barely even blinked or had any real emotion besides obvious irritation. He took a sip from the one coffee he claimed to actually enjoy – he must have saved that one mug before tossing her great-mother’s table into several unsalvageable pieces.

“You will not lock him up any more, nor will you treat him like a servant. And…if something like what happened with that mutt happens again; if Harry is harmed in anyway due to your negligence I _will_ show you deepest depths of despair and you will plead with me for a quick and painless death.”  

With that, the man got up and left, leaving the Dursley’s in a right state.

Petunia wanted to demand why the man thought that he could threaten her in her own house, but she wisely remained silent. _Those_ people had never been like _this_ …why this man wouldn’t simply take Harry off of their hands she didn’t know. But _none_ of them had ever been so terrifying. None of them had ever invaded her home like this.

She stared at what remained of Ripper, and felt sick in her insides. She didn’t want that man to ever return.

Oh, how she loathed when her nephew would lord the threat of that man returning whenever he wanted something. At least he never did it all the time; and his requests were never that unreasonable.

0000

Earlier in the evening, Harry had unlocked a window upstairs so that Ulquiorra could climb inside, and they could switch. While a part of Harry was thankful for what Ulquiorra had done, another part of him started to realize how terrifying and ruthless his friend could be.

From then on, it was different. There was a sensation of walking on eggshells around Harry, but things were much more pleasant; and Dudley didn’t dare complain.

0000

Marge was in a huff, and was truly upset. Really, who could blame her? She booked a ticket for the earliest train, and was gone just as the sun’s rays were peeking over the horizon.

Her precious Ripper was gone, thanks both to that brat and that person. She wasn’t sure when she would return to see her brother. But it was likely as long as that brat lived under her brother’s roof.

Marge absentmindedly itched a spot on her arm.

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. It was strange, the seats were usually so comfy… Marge shifted again. Her face felt itchy, and so she scratched it. But it didn’t feel relieved. Another spot on her arm was feeling really itchy as well.

“Oh, bloody hell…” a man across the aisle looked at Marge with concern. “Miss? Are you alright?”

“What?”

“Well, er, you look a little…if you’ll forgive me, splotchy…” his eyes widened somewhat in his obvious worry. “Oh, dear…are you having an allergic reaction to something?”

Marge pulled out her mirror, and she gasped at the red rashes that were scattered across her face. She then looked at her hands and arms, and she began crying in panic. What was wrong with her?!

Her entire body was just begging, _screaming_ to be itched.

The train had to do an emergency stop so Marge could go the hospital. While there, Marge was relieved to be able to clean up; and she learned just what these horrid rashes were: poison ivy.

While the leaves and vines weren’t there, it had been rubbed in _all_ of her clothing. She had only found this out when she went to grab a clean pair of undergarments.

Much to the indignation of one of the hospital workers, the poor woman was subject to Marge’s rage and hollering. Marge refused to wear the borrowed scrubs for she was as she put it, “a lady” and “would not be caught dead” wearing such horrid clothing.

The nurse simply told Marge that it wasn’t her job to go shopping, and outright refused to bend to Marge’s ridiculous demands. The nurse simply washed Marge’s clothing; and after dealing with the woman, the nurse could see why someone would want to rub poison ivy all over her belongings.

0000

_Present Day; the night of Halloween:_

When Quirrell had burst into the Great Hall and “fainted” he hadn’t expected Madam Pomfrey to be at his side to check him over with scans and concern on her features. Once she saw that he was could at least sit up, she told him,

“Oh, you need to rest!”

“But I need to…” Quirrell had nearly forgotten his stutter, so he quickly added, “I-I need t-to ch-ch-check on the s-s-s-tudents!”

Perhaps he was laying it on a little thick, but hopefully Pomfrey would view it as stress.

“Very well, but I’ll walk with you, just in case you collapse again.”

Curse this woman!

“V-very well…”

Hopefully, there would be a chance to split up. But alas, she kept her eye on him. He couldn’t go check out the Third Floor with this woman at his side! And there was no way he could risk using some sort of curse on her _now_ , not when the castle was on high-alert!

The pair ended up at the girls’ bathroom; since that was where everyone seemed to be congregating. The smell was the first thing they noticed upon entering the corridor, and the paintings were complaining about the odor and what it would do to their varnish.

He didn’t notice it, but Pomfrey did.

“Oh, Merlin, Professor Snape! What happened to your leg?!”

Snape glared at Pomfrey, then at Quirrell, and shifted as he sneered. “I ran into one of those blasted Weasley twins’ traps. Once we’re done here, they’ll have a week’s detention.”

“You’re going to come with me and get that leg looked at.” Pomfrey said, her tone clearly held no room for argument.

That night, Quirrell paced in his room, muttering angrily.

That foolish Mud-blood girl! What was she doing in the bathroom at such an inopportune time? The troll hadn’t exactly served as the distraction he hoped it would, since it didn’t end up where it was supposed to. The best guess Quirrell had was that the troll must have caught some indication of the girl and lumbered over to where the most interesting noise or smell was.

But then, someone had _killed_ the troll, and the smell, the Merlin-awful stench – genuinely made him faint. Who had killed it and what spell had they used? No matter what scans any of the Professors could think to use revealed any results.

The next day, Snape marched over to where the twins were sitting and promptly gave them detention. The entire Gryffindor table glared and the twins protested to no avail. It wasn’t out of character for Snape to do such a thing, so Quirrell wasn’t sure if Snape suspected anything of him or not.

Quirrell wasn’t happy. He wasn’t sure who he should be angrier at or more worried about. Maybe he was wrong? There was still a chance of the Stone being locked in Gringotts… for his Master, he would check. If that presented no results, then he’d have to find a way to explore the Third-Floor without drawing suspicion or getting caught.

0000

_Present Day:_

Harry didn’t like Scabbers. He wasn’t sure if the Human who hid himself under the rat’s guise had the same animalistic instincts as all the other animals did. Honestly, the reactions animals had towards him were so bad, Harry always made sure to either sit at the opposite end of the Slytherin or Gryffindor tables or vacate the Great Hall entirely when mail came. The owl and ravens would screech and panic, and Harry hoped that no-one paid enough attention to realize the connections between the birds’ panic and his leaving.

Scabbers seemed to be wary, but whether that was because of Ulquiorra or Eden, Harry wasn’t sure. The rat would peer at him at random times, but wouldn’t react like the animals in the past always had. Harry could _see_ the Human intelligence in those beady black eyes and it was thoroughly off-putting.

How would he even explain to Ron about Scabbers?

Bloody troublesome rat.

000

_Two days after that fateful Halloween:_

While sitting at the Gryffindor table, Draco noticed that Snape was limping as he made his way up to the head table for lunch that afternoon.

“He’s limping?”

Hermione leaned close and whispered, “Something happened on Halloween night, but I don’t think it was with the troll.”

“Go on.” Ron encouraged.

Even Harry leaned in, not willing to miss out on anything useful.

Hermione blinked, as this was the first time really that people were looking to _her_ for information.

“Well, after I was taken to the medical wing and was resting up, Professor Snape came in with a bloody leg.” Hermione blushed as she admitted, “I pretended to be asleep… He said something about a dog and…and something about the Third-Floor corridor.”

“…I think we should check it out.” Ron said. He then took a huge bite of his fried eggs. Through his mouthful, a garbled version of, “Who knows what could be hidden there?”

Both Draco and Hermione shared a disgusted expression – though, Hermione was slightly more subtle about it.

“Seriously, Ronald,” Hermione chided, “At least swallow before talking.”

“How eloquent, Weasley. Anyway, I agree with Granger; and I have to disagree with your suggestion of exploring any off-limit areas in the castle. A Slytherin doesn’t needlessly go looking for trouble.”

_/ “I agree with Malfoy.” /_

_Of course you would._

“I think we should leave it, but…” Harry shrugged. “A part of me _is_ curious…”

“Oh, Harry…” Hermione sighed in disappointment.

“I didn’t say we _should!”_ Harry defended.

The four of them decided to leave it alone – that was, until _The Daily Prophet_ came a few days later, reporting that there had been a break-in at Gringotts. Harry stared at the article, and asked, _Hey, Ulqui…isn’t that the vault where Hagrid had to pick something up for ‘Hogwarts business’?_

 _/ “Unfortunately, yes.” /_ There was a pause on Ulquiorra’s end, before he asked in a near-exasperated tone, _/ “You want to check this out, don’t you?” /_

_Yes._

“That was the same vault Hagrid and I stopped at when we were at Gringotts for my own funds…” Harry told his friends. “Do you want to pay him a visit?”

Draco didn’t look very comfortable, but it seemed that since he had come this far, he might as well come along.

0000

They all visited Hagrid that weekend. Hagrid didn’t really look that surprised to see Harry, or even Ron and Hermione, but he certainly was surprised to see Draco there. Draco glanced around the small hut, and only his proper upbringing prevented him from having a derisive expression.

Fang, Hagrid’s dog whined loudly and somehow managed to squeeze himself under the bed where he peered out at them shaking and whimpering.

“Tha’s odd…” Hagrid muttered. “Sure, ol’ Fang is a coward bu’ he sure don’ ac’ like thi’…”

Harry simply took a seat that was as far away from Fang as he could get – which wasn’t really that much. Hopefully, they wouldn’t be here for so long that Fang got too stressed out. Dogs weren’t exactly his thing after Ripper; and he _really_ didn’t want Ulquiorra to kill Hagrid’s dog.

Hagrid offered them tea, which was pleasant enough; and Harry accepted a rock cake to be polite. He bit down, and – well, his teeth didn’t even penetrate the surface of the cake. Draco was peering at his own cake, and he subtly shoved the cake into one of his robe pockets. Ron pretended to chew the cake and said how good it was, while he also expertly hid away his inedible cake. Having so many siblings competing for food had thankfully prepared him for this moment. Hermione was the only one who simply accepted the tea.

After spending some time talking about how classes were going, how Hagrid was doing, and catching up of other goings on, Harry finally presented the newspaper article, asking, “Hagrid, isn’t this that vault where you picked something up for Dumbledore?”

“…The Stone!” Hagrid said, before his eyes widened and he quickly muttered, “I shouldn’ have said tha’…”

“The Stone? What Stone?” Hermione asked, but Hagrid just shook his head. “Dumbledore asked me ta keep it a secret he did…can’ tell ye more than tha’.”

“So…” Draco arched his brow. “This Stone was removed from Gringotts and moved to Hogwarts, wasn’t it? …And there was that break-in…did the old man anticipate a break-in or something?”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “The Stone’s being kept in the off-limits area of the Third-Floor, isn’t it?”

Hagrid started to look uncomfortable. “Now, ye didn’ hear tha’ from me…”

“What is the Stone?” Ron asked. “What’s so special about a stupid rock that someone would bother to steal it from Gringotts?”

“Flammel created it.” Hagrid said, before a large hand clamped over his mouth. “I didn’ say tha’.”

“Flammel? Wait…” Draco’s eyes widened in full realization. “It’s the bloody _Philosopher’s Stone,_ isn’t it?!”

“Now, now… le’s na’ go there…” Hagrid tried to discourage the conversation to no avail.

“What’s the Philosopher’s Stone?” Harry asked.

“Hold on…” Hagrid said, but Draco wasn’t paying the half-Giant any attention.

“The Philosopher’s Stone is an incredibly rare and powerful item and is extremely difficult to make – so difficult in fact, it was only _rumored_ to even exist. It can turn lead into gold, it supposedly can increase your magical ability tenfold. Weasley, I’d imagine you’ve certainly seen what magic can do without an amplifier.” Draco was practically rambling in his knowledge. “But the thing that really makes the Stone so valuable is that it can slow down a person’s aging exponentially, making them nearly immortal…” Draco trailed off. “Why’s something like _that_ at Hogwarts?”

“The Stone’s na’ a’ Hogwarts…” Hagrid replied very unconvincingly.

“But from the stories…if it really does exist…” Draco frowned. “Why wasn’t it destroyed?”

“Draco?” Hermione questioned, and even Ron was looking concerned. Hagrid looked as if he wanted to stop the conversation all together, but couldn’t think of how to change the subject.

“There are some pretty dark rumors surrounding the Stone, so it’s very forbidden to make one, if you can even manage it. The stories range from the Stone being made of people to being an enchanted ruby that sucks all the magic out of someone and can only be handled with special gloves.” Draco explained, with a shrug. “So to think that one is actually _here_ at the _school…”_

“Bloody hell…” Ron muttered.

Everyone sitting at the table looked uncomfortable.

“Ye heard none o’ this from me…” Hagrid muttered. He then glanced at Draco. “Is it true, what you said abou’ the Stone? Bein’ people’s lives?”

“I think so? But I can’t be sure. I mean, my father has all sorts of books, and I honestly don’t think he’d want one that contained incorrect information. The book didn’t really say how to create a Stone or anything; it was just about the darker rumors surrounding alchemy.”

In an attempt to brighten the somber mood, Harry commented, “You really seem to know a lot about alchemy, Draco!”

Draco failed to not look pleased. “Well, of course I do! It’s one of my favorite subjects to study. I wish they would offer classes on it here, but because it’s such a rare art there actually has to be enough of a demand from the students themselves to learn it. Even then, they’d have to find an Alchemist to teach the class, and those are also rare to find.”

Hermione had a longing expression on her face. “Draco, would you mind too much…if I borrowed some of your alchemy books? It sounds _ever so_ interesting! Does it involve magic? Potions? What spells do you have to do?”

“Fine, fine, I’ll lend them to you.”

Hermione pulled Draco into a hug. Draco didn’t return the hug; he simply scowled and didn’t bother to push her away.

Sometime later, after thanking their host and wishing him a good evening, the group left Hagrid’s hut in a somewhat happy but somber mood when thinking of what was contained with Hogwarts.

“We should tell Dumbledore.” Hermione said.

“Whatever for?” Draco asked. “He likely already knows that it’s there. What I can’t figure out is why he’d bring something like that to a _school!”_

  _/ “He’s planning for something. Potter? What are you thinking?” /_

_I don’t know yet._

0000

At dinner, their group was discussing what they should do, if anything at all.

“…We’ll be careful.” Harry put in.

“But the Headmaster said that the area was _off-limits!”_ Hermione protested.

“At least _someone_ here has the common sense to not get caught in things that don’t concern us.” Draco said, giving Hermione an approving nod. He then added, “Having common sense makes me think you’re in the wrong House, Granger.” Draco sent Ron a smirk. “You should be careful hanging around Weasley here. He might sap the higher intelligence out of you.”

 Ron glared back; but its effect was lessened thanks to the food stuffed in his cheeks.

“Good Merlin, Ronald!” Hermione scolded. “At least finish chewing before taking another bite!”

Ron grunted something affronted to her, but Hermione simply shook her head in response.

“And use a napkin.” Hermione said, pushing the cloth towards Ron.

“So what time are we going?” Harry asked.

_/ “This isn’t a good idea.” /_

_What do we have to worry about? You’re going to be there if things get dangerous._

_/ “My presence should only be a last resort, Potter.” /_

_Then we’ll just have to make sure that it doesn’t come to that. The Headmaster said all those things for a reason…_

_/ “All the more reason not to trust him.” /_

“…if you’re so insistent about this, I suppose we could go tomorrow, _after_ finishing homework.” Hermione was saying, although there was clear disapproval in her features.

When everyone looked at her, Hermione crossed her arms and huffed. “You clearly aren’t going to let this go, so we might as well abate your curiosity before you do something foolish that costs either of your Houses points. I _really_ don’t want to get caught and have detention…or get expelled.”

Sending Ron and Harry a very pointed look, “Someone has to be the responsible one.”

“And that’s you…?” Ron asked. Hermione glared at him.

Draco sighed. “You know, I was actually going to come up with an excuse to sit this one out, but I really can’t leave you alone with these two and still have a clean conscience.”

“Wow. Who knew Malfoy had a conscience to begin with?” Ron smirked.

“Well, of course. And it’s certainly cleaner than your face, Weasley. Not really hard there.”

Ron furiously wiped his face with his napkin.

0000

“Let me remind you once again how bad an idea I think this is,” Draco stated as he followed behind the others.

“You’ve said that like, thirty times now!” Ron hissed.

There was no real formation in their positions; simply sneaking along the wall amongst the sleeping portraits and statues.

“STUDENTS! STUDENTS OUT OF BED!!” a voice screeched, terribly startling all of them – although Harry didn’t jolt as bad. Peeves began soaring up above them back and forth, calling out about the students, and it was then he noticed one particular student was glaring at him, and Peeves immediately halted and screamed. “DEATH! DEATH! IT’S DEATH!”

The paintings began shouting their complaints, adding to the cacophony. Peeves then quickly retreated, and that was when they heard Filch talking to Mrs. Norris about the passed-curfew students and how he was going to punish them. All of the students scrambled for a hideaway, cursing Peeves for not only revealing them; but also for distracting them from hearing Filch’s arrival.

Hermione pointed to a door that they nearly skidded passed. She tried the handle, but it was locked. It didn’t really matter when there was an unlocking spell. “In here! _Alohamora!_ ”

All of them scrambled in, and Hermione slammed the door behind them and locked it again. They leaned against the door, gasping for air. But it seemed that no reprieve would come for them, since… loud growling could be heard in rumbling the darkness, and there was a smell that reminded them of something burning while being animalistic at the same time.

Numerous wet glops hit the floor. Upon noticing the wet puddles, slowly, the students’ eyes all drifted upwards. In the dull torchlight was… Harry paled and he started shaking at the sight of a _huge_ three-headed dog.

 _/ “Potter, move!” /_ Ulquiorra ordered, and he nearly demanded to be let out because Harry had frozen on the spot.

The dog snarled and lunged forward, and it was thanks to Ron yanking Harry with him that he didn’t get bit in two. One of the dog’s heads crashed against the wall, and Harry swore he could hear stone and wood shatter.

Draco cast off some sort of spell that was a bluish-green light that shot passed the dog, and one of its heads briefly glanced at it before all three heads were paying attention to the students. The dog lunged again, specifically going for Harry once again.

“Why didn’t that work?! Let’s get out of here!” Draco shouted.

All of them stumbled out of the room just as giant jaws clamped down; barely missing them. Hermione quickly locked the door, and collapsed to the ground shaking.

“This was a bad idea, this was a _really, really_ bad idea!” Hermione said, running her hands through her mess of hair. “We _shouldn’t_ have done this!”

“Why is that thing in the school?!” Draco demanded.

“Why did it have _three_ bloody heads?!” Ron looked shaken.

Harry was staring at the door, unmoving and wide-eyed. All he could think about was how ferocious that dog was, and how he couldn’t even move.

_/ “Calm down, Potter. No-one was hurt. Anyway, did you see the trapdoor?” /_

“There was a trapdoor?”

“A trapdoor.” Draco repeated flatly.

“Oh, how did you notice?” Ron asked in an sarcastically upbeat tone. “Because I was paying attention to the _three bloody heads!”_

“Don’t shout, Ron!” Hermione hissed.

“It’s a guard dog…” Draco said. “That has to be it.”

“Do you think it’s protecting the Stone?” Hermione asked.

“It’s the only reason I can think of.” Draco frowned at Harry. “Potter, are you alright?”

“Let’s just say I had a really bad experience with a dog when I was eight…” Harry replied.

_/ “If that dog is meant to be guarding something so dangerous, why was the door so easy to unlock?”/_

Harry didn’t like that question, and he didn’t think he wanted to know the answer. But he asked the question anyway, and given the expressions on the faces of his friends, they were coming to the same unsettling realization.

“I think we should leave it…just leave it…” Hermione said. “We’re here to learn magic, not anything else!”

“I agree with Granger.”

Ulquiorra wondered if he should point out the fact or keep quiet. After considering it for a moment, he said, _/ “Potter. If Hagrid knows about the Stone, then he might know about the dog. There’s strong enough reasoning for that to be what that creature is protecting.” /_

“We should ask Hagrid about the dog.” Harry said, and the three looked at him – both Hermione and Draco shared expressions of exasperation, and Ron looked wide-eyed, as if coming to the same conclusion Ulquiorra had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: these kids need to get to class! McGonagall needs some screen time, as do some of the other Professors. There also needs to be a Quidditch match in here somewhere.


	9. In Which the Question is Would You Rather Read a Good Book or Read an Aura

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco starts to really wonder if something is up with Harry, but doesn't know how to ask. Harry goes about learning how to be a Pureblood Slytherin, and making a new friend along the way.

The older students warned the First-Years about the Divination class. They were told to “arrive early and sit in the back and keep your head down, and don’t try to draw attention to yourselves”. This was advice sagely passed down in all Four Houses; this was one of the few things the Houses could unanimously agree on. With the exception of a few students who actually enjoyed the class.

The first time Harry had entered the Divination classroom, he was hit with a smell so strong he went into a coughing fit. It was like bathing in weird, musky potpourri and scented candles. You could _always_ tell who came from Divination by smell alone and wouldn’t even have to ask.

The class was…absurd, as Ulquiorra saw fit to call it. Professor Trelawney wore far too many scarves with flowing robes and had a rat’s nest for hair. Added to this were thick glasses and a whispery voice that hummed about auras and reading the stars, and knowing how to interpret tea leaves.

Draco obviously hated it; Ron scoffed at it; and Hermione didn’t speak of Divination with the usual enthusiasm she held for other classes.

Since it was a mandatory class for all First-Years, Harry and his fellow Divination haters had to endure. There were a few people who actually enjoyed the class, Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown in particular were utterly enthralled by the Professor’s every word.

Professor Trelawney had a habit of calling on people who sat near the front; so there would be some arguments between people on where they wanted to sit before classes started.

That day, Harry cursed when he and Draco were running late for Divination. They had to take an alternate route thanks to one of the hallways being rigged with Dung Bombs and balls that burst upon contact with any unfortunate passersby. Many students were walking around covered in neon-colored powders and glitter smelling like they spent the night in Hagrid’s stables. Unfortunately, many of those students had Divination next and no time to shower. The sickly-sweet smell of the Divination classroom didn’t help things.

A mix of admiration and irritation was sent towards the Weasley Twins.

Finally, they made it to their class, and Trelawney didn’t really move to acknowledge them – until – the only table left was positioned at the front.

Professor Trelawney slowly turned around in a dramatic fashion. “…I see you have deemed to finally join us, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy…I foresaw that you would be late today.”

“Oohhh…” awed Parvati and Lavender, while other students either rolled their eyes or looked at the two late arrivals with pity. Slytherin or not, no-one deserved to have this particular Professor’s attention on them.

The two boys mumbled half-hearted apologies, and Hermione quickly leaned over to show them where they were in the textbook – it was about unlocking and understanding auras or something like that.

“…Reading someone’s aura can be difficult to the untrained eye…but once you manage to unlock this gift, it is a truly…useful thing…I will demonstrate…”

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see Parvati and Lavender leaning forward in anticipation; while others did their best not to draw attention to themselves. Harry focused on the book, and he focused hard. It didn’t matter that he was intently staring at this one page. As long he was showing that he wasn’t interested, then it would be fine.

“You…” Harry cringed for the poor sod whom the Professor had called upon, “…Mr. Potter.”

Harry took a deep breath, coughed, and slowly looked up at Professor Trelawney, who blinked slowly behind her huge glasses.

“…Yes?”

“Tell me…were you born in either…November or December?”

“…July, actually.” Harry said quietly, not liking the attention.

“This is…this is quite strange.” Professor Trelawney muttered. “Are you absolutely _sure_ you weren’t born in…early December? Because there’s a particular feeling of cold I’m getting from you.”

Harry only shook his head. Professor Trelawney suddenly grabbed his hand and began running a long finger over the creases in his palm.

Trying to act as normal as he could, Harry had to question just what the Professor was sensing… he bit his lip. Then he remembered: Ulquiorra’s birthday was December 1rst.

“Hmmm…” Professor Trelawney awkwardly inched her face closer to Harry’s palm until her nose was barely two inches away and he could feel her breath on his hand. “I see…miles and miles of …white sand…” Squinting, she twisted Harry’s hand a bit and he had to adjust how he was sitting into an only slightly more comfortable position. “There’s a girl…and…she’s reaching out for fading ashes…”

Ulquiorra unwittingly pulled at the mental link, causing Harry to jerk away, nearly slapping his Professor in the face.

“…Sorry…” Harry mumbled, before he turned inward.

_What the hell, Ulqui?!_

_/ “Apologies… but that woman…she’s sensing_ me.” / Ulquiorra could have kicked himself, losing control like that.

“This is certainly the curious aura…” Professor Trelawney said, not even acknowledging how strange Harry was acting. “Mr. Malfoy, you would benefit…from learning to read auras from Mr. Potter. You…shouldn’t let an opportunity like this go to waste.”

“Yes, Professor,” Draco agreed, as he looked at Harry; who honestly didn’t look as if he were paying any particular attention to anything.

“Oh, dear…!” gasped Trelawney as she held Neville Longbottom’s palm in hers, “I foresee great misfortune in your near future!”

Neville whimpered.

“Literally _anyone_ could say that about Longbottom, though,” Ron whispered to the others as he rolled his eyes. “He tripped and fell down the last two steps of our dorm this morning and busted his lip.”

Hermione sent Neville a sympathetic look.

Ron easily ignored the glares Parvarti and Lavender sent his way when they overheard him.

0000

It was _very_ strange, Draco thought. He was supposed to write eight inches on some sort of plant for Herbology; ten inches for Potions; maths homework…but he couldn’t concentrate.

Divination had been strange; especially since Harry had his palm read. Harry had been distracted since that class, although he had tried to pretend he was paying attention.

Draco was thinking of all the instances of when things around Harry were strange – and that didn’t include magic. His beloved owl, while not necessarily friendly; nibbled the fingers of strangers, or simply ignored them.

Archimedes had reacted almost violently upon seeing Harry, and Harry was quick to excuse himself. Why hadn’t Draco thought of it before? Harry was _always_ leaving when the owls and ravens flew into the Great Hall to deliver mail. The various cats belonging to students hissed at him; arching their backs and puffing up their tails.

The only animals to not act up around Harry were Eden, Scabbers, and even Crookshanks – who didn’t seem to care about anything.

Then, there were the House Elves…while many could be dimwitted, they were intelligent enough. They had wondered who that “fourth person” was with them that night he, Harry and Ron had went down to the kitchens for food.

That whole thing with Firenze in the Forest was strange. It was as if Firenze hadn’t been talking to Harry; but rather someone else.

Had someone or something connected itself to Harry?

Draco had read only a few books about possession, and those were the books his father – or anyone for that matter, wasn’t exactly supposed to have in their library. His mother had caught him reading one and had promptly scolded him, as she put it, “no child should be learning about these things”.

Harry didn’t act like he was possessed. So that couldn’t be it.

Draco wondered if he should ask. But how was he going to ask? It wasn’t like he could simply walk up and ask, ‘Hey, Potter, are you possessed?’

For one, he didn’t have any proof beyond speculation. It would be easy to deny, laugh it off, and make some sort of excuse. Maybe he should ask Ron if he’s noticed anything. _Would_ Ron even notice something like that?

Someone poked Malfoy’s arm.

“Oi, Malfoy, are you even listening?” Ron asked, giving the other boy a scowl. “You said you’d help me with my Transfiguration homework.”

“I said I’d help you; not write it for you, Weasley.” Draco replied tiredly. “What about the notes Granger and I wrote?”

“Those are just…” Ron ran a hand through his hair, mussing it slightly. “I don’t get it.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “What exactly about this is so hard?”

“Well, this whole bloody transferring energy thing,” Ron muttered bitterly, “and reshaping objects…I _know_ it’s talking about Transfiguration…but _how_ I’m going to explain it…”

“Honestly, Weasley,” Draco muttered right back. “I’ll write a bit out for you, just make sure you change it up a bit - in exchange for some of your frog cards.”

Ron looked incensed. “Merlin’s balls. Really?”

“I would never work for free.”

“Fine.” Ron reluctantly agreed.

“While I don’t condone charging Ronald for helping him write his paper,” Hermione said thoughtfully, “Maybe I _should_ start charging him because he certainly comes to me for help more times than he’s come to you…often _very_ last minute.” Hermione sent Ron a flat look. “Like last night, for example…when our Arithmancy paper was due _this_ morning.”

“WHAT?!” Ron yelled, and the others promptly shushed him. Ron went wide-eyed and quickly ducked his head down, trying to look busy.

Madam Pince’s head poked around the edge of a bookshelf, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. Her voice was a hissing whisper that might as well have been a threat. “No loud noises.”

The students nodded.

She glared at them for a few anxiously long seconds, before disappearing back between the bookshelves to haunt some other poor souls and organize books while she was at it.

0000

Harry sat in the Slytherin common room observing. Or rather, he pretended to read a book while Ulquiorra observed. More specifically, they were looking at Harry’s fellow First-Years. The older students could come later.

There was Blaise Zabini, and while he had been something of a jerk to the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws, there was hope for him yet. From the whispers that were overheard, his mother was a Black Widow, but she would have connections and know the people who mattered.

There was also Theodore Nott, a serious boy who kept to himself and was often engrossed in a book. From what people said, his father was high up in the Ministry and his mother was always attending some political function or charity.

How was he going to get these two on his side? After thinking for a moment, Harry had an idea. He quickly wrote Aunt Petunia a letter, and retrieved several pound notes for her. While she would likely be annoyed, Petunia would grudgingly help.

000

Just a week and a few days later; on a day when the common room was mostly empty, save for the three occupying it, because this would have to be handled carefully. Slytherin was about appearance and reputation, after all. Harry marched up to the table where Blaise and Theo were sitting in the common room, and with a simple hovering spell, Harry placed a large stack of books on the table.

“What is all that?” Blaise asked with a raised brow.

Theo just observed the exchange in silence.

“Books.” Harry replied smartly.

“I can _see_ that.” Blaise was clearly getting annoyed. “Why do you have them out here?”

“I want your help,” Harry said with a smirk. “Draco has already given me plenty of advice on what I should do; how I should act as a Slytherin, but most of all: as a Potter. I want to do my family name proud and bring it back to its rightful glory. I want to be connected to those who have a lot of pull and are high up in the Ministry. In short, I would like to be…proper.”

Holding up a book, “I will exchange information for information.”

“Those don’t look like wizarding books.” Theo quietly observed with an undertone of suspicion.

“That’s because they’re Muggle.” Harry replied, and he ignored the indignation radiating off of Blaise, but Theo simply raised a skeptical brow. Looking at the book he had randomly picked up from the top of the pile – it had something to do with the moon landing and the experiences the astronauts went through. Harry opened it to a random section and began to read a passage.

“What is that gibberish?” Blaise asked.

“Why, the 1969 Moon Landing, of course.” Harry said, closing the book dramatically. “Muggles landed on the moon not very long ago.”

“They did?” Theo asked quietly, and Harry nodded.

“You’re really going to talk about how you want to be a proper Pureblood while promoting Muggle filth?”

Harry ignored Blaise and put that book to the side and held up another, “ _Stephen Hawking,_ amazing chap. Oh, if you’re looking for a bit of adventure, there’s always _Lord of the Rings,_ bit tedious to read, but so worth it. All three volumes are here, along with _The Hobbit._ If you like dogs, I have books about them, too.”

Theo made a face. “…What’s a Hobbit?”

“They’re like small Humans, but have hairy feet and live in houses built into hills.” Harry held the book up, “A Hobbit fights a dragon in this book, and then you have to read these.”

Blaise rolled his eyes so hard, it was impressive that they didn’t roll right out of his head.

“This is ridiculous. I’m leaving.” Blaise stood up, and looked at Theo expectantly. “Nott?”

Except Theo was looking at the pile of books, clear interest on his otherwise usually unexpressive face.

“Don’t tell me you’re actually _interested_ in that Muggle garbage.” Blaise scoffed. “What if your parents find out?”

“They’d only find out if you told them.” Theo responded, his usual monotonous tone turned somewhat threatening.

Blaise’s scowl deepened, and he looked as if he desperately wanted to say something, but couldn’t think of what. Or maybe he wasn’t willing to say it in front of Harry. He marched off to the dorms.

“I’ll agree to help you only if these actually deliver what you claim they do,” Theo said very diplomatically, selecting a few of the books.

“Of course,” Harry agreed, “you can take the rest if our agreement is fully established.”

Theo walked away with his books, and all Harry could do for now was wait.

000

Theo walked with purpose through the halls of the school, scanning the faces of the students passing by. He happened to glance out a window and see the person he was looking for sitting on a bench talking with his allies as they appeared to be working on homework.

Harry Potter was an anomaly in Theo’s mind.

Potter had a gift for being underestimated – and that was both an enviable quality and dangerous. He had his Slytherin tendencies; he showed that he was studious, and had earned Slytherin quite a few points since the start of term. Although, there had been that whole debacle with him and Malfoy both losing their House points. But he had earned them back and then some quickly and easily enough.

 He gave information for information. He wanted to be a proper wizard, or so he claimed – but was socializing not just with two Gryffindor students, but with a blood-traitor and a Mudblood. And he had managed to get Malfoy to tag along. This was another fact that made him dangerous.

He had gotten the sons of two feuding Pureblood Families to at least cooperate together. Granger must have had something about that he liked – and as for Malfoy and Weasley; having a partnership with Malfoy was beneficial. The Weasley Family could offer nothing in power, influence, or money – so perhaps Weasley had attached himself to Potter and subsequently Malfoy. Which was surprising, since he was socializing with _two_ Slytherin. There must have been something about Weasley that made Potter allow him to tag along.

Weasley showed a certain shrewdness at times. He had overheard Malfoy complain about Weasley – losing to him in wizarding chess more times than he won. Even then, it seemed that those victories came by the skin of his teeth.

Theo had been taught his entire life that Muggle-born were less than Purebloods in terms of magic and breeding. If that were the case, why were so many of the students having to catch up to Granger? Malfoy was right behind her when it came to grades. She had earned more than her fair share of House points. From what Theo could see whenever he had classes with Granger, she had a natural aptitude for magic

It would be more logical to see what she was capable of as the years progressed.

Theo finally approached Potter as he was glancing over something with Weasley. The latter was complaining about something to do with the homework Professor Vector had assigned, along with what maths homework that Madam Hooch expected the following day.

“Afternoon, Potter,” Theo greeted.

Already used to his quiet demeanor, both Potter and Malfoy simply glanced up at him. Granger and Weasley both jolted as if he had sprung out from under an Invisibility Cloak with a loud shout.

“Merlin’s withered balls!” Weasley exclaimed. “Don’t _do_ that!”

How eloquent Weasley was.

“Oh! You made me mess up this paragraph!” Granger cried, as she mournfully gazed down at the spilled ink that had spread over her parchment. “What am I going to do? I can’t turn _this_ in! I’ll have to start over!”

“…You _are_ aware that there’s a spell for cleaning up ink, don’t you?” Theo asked flatly.

Granger blinked up at him and her face went red. “Oh…right…I forgot.”

Theo easily cast a _Tergeo_ spell on the spilled ink. The fact that she had forgotten such a spell existed and went straight to panicking showed how _Muggle_ she truly was. She still had a lot to learn.

Granger mumbled a quiet “thanks”, although she seemed disappointed at having less ink than before. She sounded quite forlorn as she added, “Good thing I have an extra bottle.”

“So, uh, Theo,” Potter greeted with a nod, “How can I help you?”

“I have a question about the High-Elves, their history, and the Undying Lands.” Theo said very matter-of-factly.

Both Draco and Ron looked very confused, but Hermione glanced up. “Are you talking about _Lord of the Rings?”_

“Yes. Have you read them?”

“Oh, yes, I have!” Hermione bubbled with joy and began rambling about the series.

Within minutes, Theo and Hermione were in some sort of deep discussion about Elves, Orcs, how Elves did and didn’t die…

000

By now, both Ron and Draco looked exceptionally confused.

“What are they on about?” Ron asked.

“A book series.” Harry replied simply, with a satisfied smirk.

“About _what,_ exactly?” Draco questioned.

“I wouldn’t really know, I haven’t read the books.” Harry said with a whisper, “But I know Hermione _has_.”

Ron’s eyebrows rose and Draco’s jaw dropped for a moment before he shook his head and slapped a hand over his face in a show of weariness.

“Potter, I don’t know what you’re trying to do…” Draco warned, knowing what messing with the status quo could mean. “But you need to tread carefully.”

Harry shrugged as he responded, “They look like they’re enjoying themselves, though.”

True enough, Hermione was now telling Theo about _The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe,_ and Theo looked genuinely interested.

Becoming friends with Theo would be more than advantageous – and having Hermione, the bookworm that she was, would latch onto someone with similar interests and a love for books that equaled hers.

0000

It wasn’t long until Theo approached Harry with a few books about politics and manners – and what made these different from what Ulquiorra had read was that these were meant solely for the Pure-Blooded Slytherin elites.

“The older a family is, the more power of status they hold – _especially_ if they have money.” Theo explained in a very bored way. “The Crabbe and Goyle Families basically kiss the asses of the Malfoy Family; they do whatever work the Malfoy head doesn’t want to do, and in turn he gives them money and status by association.

“Getting invited to a party by a high-ranking Family Head that isn’t obligatory is a big deal, and all about timing, and I hate it.”

“How would you know whether or not it’s obligatory?”

“They request your attendance by your first _and_ last name – otherwise it’s simply the usual Family name. You don’t want to arrive too early – you’ll appear desperate. Arriving too late makes it look like you don’t care or appreciate their offer. Staying past your welcome is of course rude and makes you look desperate. Leaving too early makes it look like you don’t care or appreciate their offer.”

“That seems easy enough…I think…”

“And then there’s gifts,” Theo added, looking as if he hated that too. “Whether or not you were named in the invitation, bringing a gift is expected. Not only that, you _have_ to bring something and hope the family doesn’t already own something like it – and won’t detest it for one reason or another. So knowing their history is a must.”

“That sounds…troublesome?”

“Oh, believe me, it is. My mother literally spend months planning for when she and father are invited to parties, and the gifts they plan to bring; along with who they’re going to schmooze so they can repeat the process. Something to understand is that politics among Slytherins is equivalent to warfare.”

Harry must have made a face, because Theo added, “For example, if Lord Malfoy suddenly decided to pull all support from the Crabbe Family, they’d start to be seen as social pariah – especially by those of equivalent standing.”

“…and would leave others to wonder why the Lord Malfoy would pull his support in the first place.” Harry realized.

Theo nodded. “There are people who purposefully spread different versions of the same story to all the different chinwaggers in certain circles, ensuring that someone’s reputation precedes them.”

“Oh, _ouch.”_ Harry cringed at the thought. He somewhat understood what that was like; his Muggle school and the neighborhood had thought that he was a hoodlum, before Ulquiorra finally stepped in.

Theo looked as if he wanted to say something else, but he didn’t seem to think it mattered since he moved on to how to talk to the people he was trying to earn the favor of.

“Anyway, to get what you want, you’ll have to do favors for people who will have no choice but to pay you back; but you never want to be seen as generous.”

This was so much information, it made Harry glad that Ulquiorra was there.

 _/ “It seems my presence is making you lazy, Potter.” /_ Ulquiorra said, with a small smirk. _/ “Perhaps I should leave you on your own, one day.” /_

It took all of Harry’s self-control to not react – otherwise, he’d look crazy in front of Theo. And it wasn’t like he could beg Ulquiorra not to, as he had to pay attention to the other boy.

Huh…that was…different, Ulquiorra thought. Since when did he tease Harry? No matter. It was likely a one-time thing.

0000

Anyway, Ulquiorra and Harry both had a lot to think about. That night as Harry slept, Ulquiorra read the books Theo had given Harry. A lot of this was knowing social cues; paying the right people have; having people work for you…

In fact, one book encouraged the employment of Muggle-born and Half-Bloods – although it was as if the idea were considered both radical and courteous to the less fortunate. This was because even if a businesses _didn’t_ discriminate against Muggle-born, they preferred Purebloods and certain Half-Bloods simply because of connections and reputation.

Having a Muggle-born work for a Pureblood allowed them to get their foot in the door with businesses; the connections were endless. Purebloods and Half-Blood working for powerful Families ensured security and protection. The more that were employed, the better a Pureblood looked. Plus, it gave the Muggle-born protection against discrimination in a way – but that in itself was a downside of working for one of the Elite.

They would be like well cared-for property. The person would wear a pin with the Family Crest and they would be shown respect. Disrespecting someone who worked for that Family would be like disrespecting the Family itself.

This book was getting exasperating.

Ulquiorra picked up a different one. But he didn’t really focus on the words. He was thinking about some of what Theo had said. Gossipers would be an asset.

At some social function, dropping hints with the right people about a man not receiving a trial, and the incompetence of those who allowed it – making people question their judgment and objectives. Asking, ‘can they _really_ be trusted?’

Pretending to know things you didn’t and letting the person willingly and foolishly reveal what they knew…making people doubt each other.

Ulquiorra sighed. This wasn’t really his thing. This was the sort of game Aizen probably would have liked to play.

But Ulquiorra didn’t have anything else to do.

He sighed, yet again. He was annoyed because it seemed ‘get invited to a party’ was the first thing on the list to ensure Sirius Black’s freedom. How bothersome.


	10. In Which Harry may be Entirely Mental, or at least Ron thinks so

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry makes plans and Ron gets stressed and really hopes he's not responsible for Harry Potter's death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a shorter chapter, but it’s laying a foundation for future events… thank you for your support. I’m going to be editing some of the previous chapters, just to clean them up a bit. It shouldn’t be anything that requires rereading, but I will let you know if it does.

Harry lay on his bed with his new pet curled on his stomach. He was trying to think of a good name for her – and he had thought that ‘Alice’ was a perfectly nice name.

 _“It doesn’t suit me, Master,”_ the Snake said, flicking her tail.

_“…What about Slithers?”_

The Snake narrowed her eyes at him. It was truly an impressive feat that the Snake managed to make her hisses as tonally flat as they were. _“That is_ not _a name that one with any pride would have.”_

Harry groaned. Why was a name so bloody important? He had suggested some very good ones!

  _What do you think, Ulqui?_

_/ “What do I think about what?” /_

_A name for the Snake._

_/ “…I’m not sure why you’d think I’d care.” /_

_Because I’ve been going through names for the last hour!_

_/ “Fine. Try ‘Hebi’.” /_

_What? Hebi? What does that mean?_

_/ “It means ‘Snake’ in Japanese.” /_

_“You aren’t being helpful!”_ Harry accused aloud, and the Snake cocked her head.

_/ “And I’m not trying to be.” /_

_“Seriously?! If I could, I would smack you!”_

_/ “Hm.” /_

Harry smacked his forehead. Ulquiorra could be a stingy jerk sometimes! And the Snake… He wondered what sort of name the Snake even wanted.

After a moment or two, Ulquiorra spoke up, _/ “Try ‘Eve’ or ‘Eden’.” /_

Those names… _Are you serious?_

_/ “Why even ask me if you aren’t going to take my suggestions?” /_

_Ugh. Fine._

_“Uh… How about either ‘Eve’ or ‘Eden’?”_

_“Oh! Master, I really like how ‘Eden’ sounds!”_

Eden it was, then.

_/ “There. Now that that’s settled, can we talk to your relatives now? It’s almost 10.” /_

_“Yeah, yeah…”_

0000

Leaving Eden upstairs, Harry came down to have a talk with Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. Petunia looked as if she had sucked on a particularly sour lemon; Vernon might as well have been told that his job had gone bankrupt and they were all going to have to live out of a box.

They sat at the kitchen table with cups of tea. There were several minutes of silence as Harry seemed to study his aunt and uncle.

“So,” Harry finally broke the silence and folded his hands on the table in front of him, “why’d you lie to me about my parents?”

Petunia took a sip of tea. Although it was sweetened with a bit of honey, it tasted bitter in her mouth. She set her cup down, unintentionally clinking her cup a little more loudly than was proper. “Be-because…” a shaky intake of breath, “they took her from me. Those-those _freaks_ … Lily, she-she was _always_ special. She was the pretty one, the…” Petunia spat out the word like it was poison, _“magical_ one, and I was…”

Nothing. _Normal_. Bitter and resentful. Jealous for things she could never have and would never know. Because at one point, they had been friends, only for Lily to find new ones and leave her behind. Because Lily was everything she wasn’t, and it seemed that Petunia would never be enough no matter how hard she tried.

“So, it’s far better to stay away from that world.” Petunia let out a bitter laugh. “They like to kill them young.”

Lily had written her several letters throughout the last few years she was alive. Never on parchment; likely for Petunia’s sake. Petunia hadn’t opened any of them and had stashed them away in a hatbox in her closet pretending that they didn’t exist. Maybe a sentimental part of her kept her from destroying them.

But then, someone from that world left a child on her doorstep and news of her sister and brother-in-law being dead.

That was when Petunia finally opened the letters.

It seemed that Lily wanted to keep something that had been lost long ago between them. Or maybe it was therapeutic on Lily’s end. That she could send letters to Petunia and tell her some of what was going on. It hadn’t mattered that Petunia never responded.

But there were names and ages of those who died, and Lily shared what memories she had of them because she hadn’t wanted them to be forgotten. They were all so young. _Too_ young. So she finally destroyed those letters and pretended that world didn’t exist, because that had to be far better a solution.

Petunia shook her head. She didn’t want to reminisce.

“I…I thought I could keep the freak – the magic out of you – that you wouldn’t be like _them.”_ Petunia looked scared. “They can take and reshape your memories, you know. They could have done that to _any_ of us and we’d _never_ know. Do you _realize_ that?” Petunia scoffed. _“They_ act all high-and-mighty – yet, _we’re_ the villains?”

Petunia laughed again, and Vernon was staring at her as if she were unhinged. Maybe she was. “They promise protection under veiled threats.”

Petunia shoved the letter that she had received from Dumbledore ten years ago across the table. Harry simply picked it up and read it without saying a word. Then, he put back on the table and pushed it back to her.

“I’m sorry.”

Too late. Not who she wanted to hear it from. But still.

Harry presented them a copy of his parents’ will. Vernon blatantly refused to touch it while Petunia took it with a nervous hand. Upon reading it – Petunia vaguely remembered the faces that went with the names.

But, her sister had never intended for her nephew to stay with her. There was only one mention of her, and it was about being given some sort of hairpin. She’d never received such a thing.

Finally, when she looked up from the paper, Harry had that strange focus to him once again. “As you can see, the will was ignored. From what I understand, it seems that there were drastic oversights because of panic and fear…and my godfather was the most obvious one to take the blame.” Harry massaged his temple for a moment, then added, “Unfortunately, this isn’t something we can really show to a Muggle lawyer because it has mentions of magic. But there’s also the fact that there’s magical law involved as well.”

Harry drummed his fingers on the table.

“If I want to get Sirius out, I’ll have to be very underhanded. I’ll need your help, though.”

“I’m keeping my hands clear of this.” Vernon muttered.

“Fine. Just…keep my family out of it.”

“Of course.” Harry nodded and smiled.

It was reminiscent of Lily when she was about to do something their parents wouldn’t have approved of. Before she had gone off with… Petunia squashed the thought down.

0000

Ron could recall the times in his childhood when his parents would stare at numerous pieces of parchment from different divisions of the Ministry and Gringotts that demanded payment. His mother would try to hide her frustrated tears, and his father would joke and smile.

One day, Ron asked his parents why they didn’t work for another Family – Ron knew how some people saw them; children often overhear adults speaking without much concern for whose young ears might be listening and comprehending. Ron knew some people who worked for powerful and influential Families; they had money, and surely, _they_ didn’t stress about galleons.

Molly Weasley was a woman of pride; Arthur Weasley was a man who had his own passions – and he didn’t want to have to rely on others to get what he wanted.

“Oh, Ronald, dear…” his mother made a face, a hand covered her mouth thoughtfully. Finally, after a moment or two of silence, “Because working for another family is…complicated. They give you a shiny pin with their Family Crest, and you are a step above a house elf.

“People do not respect _you_ – they respect _who_ you represent. Yes, there are so many chances you can have, working for someone. But it’s at the cost of your pride. You can still have a job at any place you want – but you always have to make time for what _they_ want. You aren’t your own person.”

Ron was raised with the idea that relying on others outside of family was never a good idea; because owing favors could be dangerous. He took what he could when it was offered, but always with an air of suspicion. Or at least, he tried to make sure to do so. Ron could get a little ahead of himself when it came to getting stuff for free – especially when it didn’t pass through his brothers’ hands first.

His parents had worked hard, somehow managing to keep all their mouths fed, and his father had gotten into a good enough position at the Ministry doing what he loved, where they were at least somewhat comfortable.

His parents never wanted to rely on anyone for support, but Ron admittedly felt some resentment for them not taking opportunities when they were there. But at the same time, Ron knew how his family – the Blood-Traitors – were viewed. A select few shops refused to serve them for not adhering to how they believed proper witches and wizards should live, so that just meant they had to shop elsewhere. Like the cheaper shops that offered everything second-hand. So Ron strongly disliked those people – because it was people like _that_ that made life for people like his family and Muggle-borns difficult, making it necessary to rely on Purebloods in the first place.

It was either be a charity case; or be a servant to people whose ideals went against what they believed in.

It was a complicated thing for an eleven-year-old. He’d rather think about Quidditch and his frog card collection.

So when Harry took Ron aside one day and presented him with a golden pin that bore the Potter Crest – Ron didn’t know if he should be insulted or not.

But…Harry looked at Ron with an expression of determination.

“Ron, I…I _know_ what this pin means to some people, and, well, I’d rather it be a sign of our friendship and my trust in you.” Harry was being very serious. “I need your help with something, and I’ll pay you – but not because you work for me, or anything. You don’t even have to show this to people.”

Harry let out an awkward laugh, “I mean, what good would it do, really? I’m just one kid who’s in over his head with this…”

“Okay…?” Ron was unsure. He was stared at the pin for a few seconds before looking back up at Harry. Normally, they’d discuss terms and conditions of their contract. It would involve what the Pureblood wanted – such as clarifying whether it was simple things like running errands; or if it was going so far as to ask the person they were hiring to risk life and limb.

But Ron was thrown for a loop, because there was none of that here. It was merely a show of faith. That was what made Ron not lash out in anger and storm off.

 “I need to tell you something, and – this is with the upmost confidence.” Harry took in a deep breath, “Do you know who Sirius Black is?”

“Yeah?”

“He’s my godfather,” Harry frowned for a moment to interject, “Please, stop gaping like a codfish, Ron. Anyway, he didn’t betray my parents – someone else did, someone named Peter Petigrew. Please, don’t tell _anyone_ this, absolutely no-one not – not even the animals.” That was a strange thing to add. “I’ve got to find him…and well, Sirius didn’t get a trial, and they sent an innocent man to prison. I was never supposed to end up with my Muggle relatives.”

“Alright…” Ron said slowly, “So what do you need me for?”

“Your advice.” Harry said with a smirk. “You see, the way for me to get Sirius free is to get close with those who are in the Ministry and expose the corruption. If I get you names, positions of power, you could tell me who I need to talk to and how. You’re one of the best strategists I know.”

“But…but that’s bloody _chess!”_ Ron exclaimed. _“This_ is real life!”

“Yeah, and you’re someone I think could benefit from learning and honing this skill.”

Ron frowned for a moment. For some reason, he got a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that that wasn’t something Harry would say. But he shoved the thought away. It seemed silly, because Harry was a Slytherin after all.

“So, uh, what exactly would _I_ have to do?”

“I’m attending an upcoming holiday party at the Malfoy Estate,” Harry said with a smile, “and I want to bring those people down who used my godfather and the deaths of my parents and others as their springboard.”

“That smile’s bloody creepy, mate.” Ron then muttered, as he took the pin. “And this idea is entirely mental, I hope you know that.”

“Oh, you have no idea.”

Ron studied the pin, which was just about the size of a small coin; and had a beautiful stag surrounded by a sort of intertwined wreath engraving. It glinted in the sunlight. Ron knew he had a tendency to lose things – and he didn’t want to drop it and somehow have one of his brothers find it. Somehow, they’d connect it back to him, he was sure of it. As illogical as it was.

“You know…” Ron said slowly, and he couldn’t believe what he was about to say. This was foolish and could get someone killed! But yet…it made sense. “If you could somehow get someone to visit Sirius Black, they could ask him about what _really_ happened with Peter Petigrew.”

Ron felt very nervous at the expression on Harry’s face.

“That’s actually a good idea.”

“Wait, no!” Ron started saying, “I was thinking out loud…who’s actually going to take you up on that offer? Oh, no…you aren’t going to have us stack on each other’s shoulders, are you? Because Fred and George did that once, and it didn’t go over well _at all!”_

“No need.” Harry said with a smile as he handed Ron a few galleons. “Not yet, anyway.”

Ron gaped at the galleons, before he registered what Harry was saying. “Wait, are you going to ask Malfoy to let you sit on his shoulders? I don’t think he’d agree to that…”

“Nope.”

“Hermione?”

“What? No, no one’s going to sit on any body’s shoulders, Ron.” Harry said with a laugh. “Now, can you tell me what everyone _says_ happened to Petigrew?”

“Dad says he got blown up to smithereens.” Ron replied. “All’s left was a finger. A bunch of Muggles got caught in the blast, too.”

Harry tapped his chin. “I don’t recall any spells that could do that… maybe? It’s too weird, though…”

Turning and resting his hand on Ron’s shoulder, Harry grinned at him. “Thanks for your help, Ron. See you later.”

Harry then walked away with a purposeful skip to his step.

“Wait!” Ron ran after Harry. “What are you planning to do? Break into Azkaban?!”

“I’m working on it!” Harry said with a laugh.

Ron started to feel rather stressed. What exactly had he agreed to, and what was Harry planning to do?! Oh, bloody hell…Ron hoped he wasn’t going to get Harry killed!


End file.
